Blood's Strain
by Samurai101
Summary: The Demon King needs a stronger body, and Ephraim is the prime subject to ensure the Demon's complete victory. Ephraim's strength is failing, and the Demong King is pressing from all sides. Can Eirika save her brother before the Demon King takes his body?
1. Begin Me

Disclaimer:I do not own Fire Emblem: Seima no Kouseki, or any of the characters used thus far.

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_Who am I?_

_I face that question everyday, ever since it started happening. Ever since I started hearing voices that weren't my own. Ever since I released the Demon King of Legend. I feel like I am losing myself slowly, but it doesn't matter, because I can't remember who I was. I know I wasn't who I am now, but who was I?_

_I see faces, remember names too clearly, but none of them are the same. Something is different about those faces, but I don't know what. I can't remember what is missing, or what is wrong. I remember less of what is right every day, and it slips past me too fast. I became someone else before I knew what was really me._

_It was a thick, deep, disgusting infection that seeped into my bones, and ate my heart away to shreds. It ate me, devouring me whole, and changing what was me. If there was a different me before what was now; if there was someone living before the infection ate them. If that person was me. I don't know anymore. All I know is what I am now, and what I have to do.

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Ephraim sighed, and listened as Seth continued to explain exactly why he couldn't go scouting with Forde. Ephraim knew the reason _why_ he should not be allowed to go, but sitting around was never one of his strong points. He also knew more about the countryside of Grado then Forde, but his duty was to lead his men, and not scout out terrain.

_'Maybe I can get Forde to do a sketch of the land around Grado Keep.'_ Ephraim mused idly as he listened to Seth's exasperated speech. He knew he was going to give Seth a grey head of hair before the man turned forty. He appreciated the man's advice, and knew Seth saw it his personal duty to make sure his liege was safe, but it would be much simpler if he could just see the land around Grado Keep for himself. Reports were all very well but...

"General Seth, I value your advise on these matters, but I don't think a report will be good enough. There are some things that just can not be told through a report," Ephraim began gently. "I will take Forde with me, and we'll be back within the hour. We will take no chances, and I will even take Kyle if it will put you more at ease."

Seth frowned, his disapproval evident. He did not like what Ephraim was saying, liege and lord or not. "I don't think it would be very wise to endanger yourself so," Seth reasoned. "We are in the heart of Grado now, and anything could happen."

"It will be fine Seth, do not worry." Ephraim stood, and grabbed his spear. "I trust every report that comes, but I feel I must see the land for myself. Something...something has been bothering me, and I would rather see with my own eyes today."

Seth sighed, looking at Ephraim through a shadow of red bangs. "There isn't anything I can say to dissuade you from this I see. You will go see for yourself today. I ask you take Kyle, and Forde with you-just in case."

"I will take them both." Ephraim smiled slightly. "Don't worry Seth, we will be back before supper, and right as anything can be."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Seth said looking around at the dense forest.

"I know you do not, but everything will be fine." Ephraim reassured the man, and then hefted his spear over his shoulders. He wove his way through the white sea of tents, and ducked into is own. He rifled through a small stack of papers and pulled out the appropriate map. He scrutinized it, and then grabbed the leather case for it. Ephraim walked form his tent, still rolling the map up, and attaching the leather case.

Several of the more awake people bowed, calling good mornings to Ephraim, and their other comrades. The air held a very cold snap in it, and the leaves were fading into bright fall colors. Ephraim wove his way to the horse corral, attaching his leather map case to his belt. He was unsurprised to find Seth lecturing Kyle, and Forde on the importance of their mission. Kyle stood at rigid attention, but Forde seemed to be only vaguely listening.

"Ah, Prince Ephraim!" Seth turned around sharply, and Ephraim noticed Seth had his horse tacked. The large white war horse snorted, but stood perfectly still. He was an excellently trained beast. "I ask that you ride my own horse for this outing." Ephraim smiled slightly. He had expected no less from Seth really.

"Of course, Seth, I would take no other," Ephraim replied, keeping the humor from his tone. Seth took his job of guarding Ephraim very seriously, perhaps too seriously at times but he had managed so far.

"Don't worry General Seth, Prince Ephraim is in good hands, the best right after your own," Forde said, snapping off a salute, and a bow to Ephraim. Probably to annoy Kyle with his almost flippant attitude. Seth nodded, but he looked skeptical. Ephraim let a small smile slide onto his face, and he took the reins from Seth. Seth's horse was as tall as Ephraim's eyes at the shoulder, and a massive work of muscles, and heavy bones. He was a very intimidating horse.

Ephraim pulled himself into the saddle, and sat steady in the saddle. Kyle was already on his bay of a similar build, but, oddly enough for a knight, Forde rode a little chestnut mare with quick feet. Ephraim settled himself more in the saddle, and nodded down to Seth. "We will be back in an hour-two in the most," he promised, and turned Seth's horses away from camp.

People made way for the horses as they walked through. Some of the people of Renais bowed before hurrying on, but Ephraim was thinking too hard to notice them. Something was bothering him. He couldn't decide what it is. He usually got the sick feeling something was wrong when he made an error in his tactics, but he hadn't planned any battles recently, and the feeling had started before his decision to ride out and scout for himself.

Ephraim knew the land around Grado keep fairly well, and he knew exactly where to guide Kyle, and Forde so they would be undetected. Seth's charger's feet crashed into the falling leaves, accompanied by heavy, and lighter steps behind him. Ephraim twisted the reins, pulling the stallion left, towards Grado Keep. He knew a ridge where they would be able to see most of the land around Grado keep, and keep out of sight. He and Lyon had spent much time there, watching the land below them, and talking about what would be.

Lyon, the Prince of Grado, had always been worried for his people's future, and shaky in his own leading abilities. Thoughts of his friend brought dulled pangs of worry to Ephraim. Where was Lyon in all this mindless blood shed? Lyon-kind, caring Lyon would have never said anything to suggest war with Renais, but whether he could have stood up to his father was questionable. Ephraim did not want to believe that the Emperor of Grado would have declared war on Renais, but it was easier for Ephraim to believe then Lyon having a hand in it.

"Prince Ephraim, do you know where we are going?" Forde asked, more boldly them he should have, perhaps, but that was Forde's way-borderline respectful. "If we continue this way we will be very close to Grado Keep." Forde's mare danced, her ears swiveling back and forth quickly. Perchance the mare was picking up on Forde's nerves.

"I know Forde," Ephraim said, glancing around. He knew how close the path to the ridge would take him to the Keep, but it shouldn't be guarded. Only himself, and Lyon knew about the winding trail. No one else had been told, not even Eirika. It was one of the few things Ephraim kept from his sister. "Very few people know of this place," Ephraim explained.

Forde shrugged, "If you say so Prince Ephraim." Ephraim heard a loud 'thump', and a muffled 'ow' from Forde. Kyle was no doubt giving Forde glares for being so insolent, and the blond would be getting a verbal tirade from Seth when he heard. It never seemed to bother Forde that Seth spent more time berating him then any other knight, and it never changed his ways.

Ephraim smiled slightly, and turned his horse up the next hill. Despite his smile the feeling something was going to go wrong, still hung over his head.

"Ephraim!" Kyle's shout, devoid of any honorific, sent every nerve in Ephraim's body on alert, and he tensed. A sick scent floated to him, making his head spin, doubling any thought back on itself, and making him feel sick.

**A/N:Oo-hoo, fun joys! Oh, hello! Nice to see you. This is my new story, and it's very different from the other story I posted. The italics at the beginning are thoughts of a certain person at any given time, and they will be there at every chapter beginning. See, that was Lyon at the beginning of this chapter.**

**Well, if you liked it/hated it/are indifferent towards it, Review. Jaa ne!**


	2. Poisoned

**_Disclaimer_**:I do not own Fire Emblem: Seima no Kouseki, or any characters used thus far.

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_The sky is dark, no moon, few stars. It is too overcast for stars. It reminds me of how alone I am right now. How truly devoid of life the land around me is. Truly this is one of the most desolate places in Grado, and now it holds new meaning for me. Many faithful knights died here, shedding their blood do I might live. Men who I have known for years are lost, some of them younger then I._

_I can't help but wonder how many did not want to die. I know many of them would want no other death then for their country, but some- couldn't some have wanted to live longer? How many of the men who died wanted nothing more then to live their lives in peace? I know I should not dwell on this, there is much to do, but my mind always comes back to those who have died._

_Maybe I should focus on the living. Three men made it through the slaughter: Forde, a solid knight, if not lazy, and slack at times; Kyle, a man after General Seth's own heart, and meddle; and Orson, a dear friend of Renais, and loyal to his bones. I know I could be in no better company tonight as we prepare to move on Grado Keep. I pray for my sister, and my father. I pray that they are safe, especially my sister, because she is part of me. She is my other half. I pray you are safe most of all Eirika.

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Franz bit his lips, and glanced and Seth. The older knight had been pacing, frowning, and cursing very softly under his breath since supper. Ephraim should have been back hours ago, and not even one of the three riders had returned. Sundown was approaching fast, and Seth's face was growing darker with each moment. Mrryh stood beside Franz searching anxiously for and sign of a rider.

"General Seth," Duessel swung down from his massive draft, and looked just as grim and Seth. "You have seen nothing?"

"No," Seth answered shortly, his face vexed, and dark. "I believe it is time for us to look for them. I do not want to believe anything has happened, but it has been too long." Franz felt his heart jump, and he knew it was just as much for Ephraim, as his brother. Maybe more for his brother. He didn't know whether he should be ashamed he was more anxious for his brother then his lord. He heard Mrryh make a small noise of fear, and stare around her with large eyes.

"General Duessel, would you lead a party to search for them? You know the country side better then anyone else here." Seth was still tense, angry at himself no doubt. He should have gone with Ephraim himself, or that was how he was condemning himself, Franz knew.

Duessel sighed, closing his eyes in meditation. "I will lead a party, but only a few. I believe I know where he would go to see the land, and that is where we will look first." Seth nodded, and Franz bit back the words springing into his mouth. He contemplated them for a moment, and then let them spring through his lips.

"General Seth," Franz bowed quickly, but carefully. "I ask to go with the party to find Prince Ephraim." Franz paled slightly, knowing Seth would be stepping over no lines to chastise him for speaking so.

"You ride the bay mare, do you not?" Duessel asked, weighing Franz as he stood. Franz resisted the urge to fidget under the man's gaze.

Franz nodded immediately, "Yes sir." He knew it was odd for a knight to ride a mare, and a stringy one at that. He was fond of the mare, though, as his brother was of his chestnut.

"We go not to fight, but to find. If it is acceptable I would like this young knight to come with me," Duessel said, nodding to himself.

Seth nodded as well. "I think that would be acceptable. Franz," Seth turned to the knight, who bowed quickly. "go saddle your mare, and be ready to ride when General Duessel tells you."

"Yes sir!" Franz didn't smile, but he felt a shaming amount of pride. He bowed again before leaving the two Generals to further plan the expedition. Franz trotted to the corral, only stopping to grab his lance from his tent. His sword he carried with him always, but his lance was of little use on the ground for him. Franz quickly caught his mare by her rope halter, and began tacking her.

She stood ready at his command, a little vexed she was being ridden so late-if her ears were any indication-but grudgingly stood for a quick rub over where the saddle would sit, and then the tacking up. Franz didn't notice Mrryh watching him with oddly bright eyes until he was testing the girths tightness.

"Sir Franz," Mrryh began, pausing when Franz jumped. "I-I'm sorry, but, do you think Prince Ephraim, do you think he's been harmed?" She nibbled on her lower lip, and glanced around nervously.

Franz paused, what did he think? He had no idea what held up the three scouting, but he knew they would have been back on time if things had gone well. "I do not know Mrryh, but I do not want to think Prince Ephraim has been harmed by any of this." Franz dodged around the question, unwilling to tell Mrryh it was very likely. What else would be keeping them hours after they were supposed to be back? If it had bene only his brother Franz would have only begun to worry if his horse came back alone, and then only slightly.

This was different Kyle, and Ephraim were missing along with his brother, and Kyle never lost track of time, or his horse. Seth's stallion would not let Ephraim lose track of him, and though Ephraim often got very involved in his work he would never have been this late. Never in enemy territory, where anything could happen. Franz stroke his mares neck in a lifetime old action of comfort for him and the horse.

"I did not know anyone else would be ready yet," Lute said suddenly from over her horses back. "I assumed more riders would be coming, but I did not know they would be ready."

Franz jumped again, and startled his mare. She tossed her head, and snorted. Franz quickly caught her head, and calmed her before answering Lute. "I was with General Seth when he decided it was time to look or Prince Ephraim," Franz explained, rubbing his mare's head.

"Ah, that would explain it." Lute nodded, and looked absently at the saddle in her hands. Her wall-eyed gelding sorted at her, and gave her a small shove. Franz hid his smile by securing his lance to his saddle, and checking his mare's legs again. How Lute managed to keep any horse in line, even one as biddable as her 'Wall-eye' was a mystery to him.

L'arachel joined them, claiming things for 'glory of the light', and Dozla came with her, laughing, and agreeing with her. Duessel appeared next, leading his horse, and examining his picks. Franz stood at his horses head, ready to mount and ride off. Lute tugged at her girth, and let a bland look slide over Duessel. she was not impressed by much. L'arachel was busying herself with stroking her horses head while Dozla tacked the horse up.

"We are riding in search of Prince Ephraim, and two knights of Renais. We are in enemy territory, and anything is possible. There could be an ambush waiting for us, and if there should be someone must return and tell what has befallen us," Duessel began his talk harshly, reminding the people in front of him firmly this was nothing to trifle with. Franz pulse quickened. "We ride quickly, and quietly. Our goal is to find our lost comrades, and that alone. Now mount, and keep silent, or we will meet Death."

Franz bowed once more, and swung easily into his saddle. He was only minorly surprised to see Colm scramble up on one of the pack horses. Colm sat uneasily in the saddle, the reins clenched uncertainly in his hands. They would need a sharp pair of eyes, especially if they were looking for bodies. Franz shook his head, and forced himself away from that thought. They were not dead. There was no reason to believe they were.

Duessel led the way out of camp, keeping Colm next to him. Franz tried his best to look calm. People had gathered to watch them leave, most of the camp knew by now that three people were missing. Franz tried his hardest to concentrate on riding easily, looking out, and every other thing a knight was supposed to do, but his stomach was a knot of hard, sick worry.

Franz glanced uneasily at the dark forest, and urged his mare faster. The small group moved at a steady trot. Duessel said he knew where Ephraim would go, and He set his course for that place. A few moments ago they had passed shockingly close the Grado Keep, making Franz hair stand on end, but so far there had been nothing to see in the deepening twilight but trees and night birds.

Duessel slowed their pace, and Colm said something softly to the general. Duessel eased his axe, and Lute held a tome of magic ready. Franz nervously loosened his sword, and brought his mare closer to Duessel. Duessel pushed his horse forward again, and they came upon a scene that made Franz's heart stop. Two horses stood in the clearing, one a slim mare, and the other a stocky war stallion. Two people lay sprawled on either side of the faint trail.

Franz gripped his reins tightly, and strained to see the figures in the ditches. His mouth was dry, but he knew who one must be. He knew it was his brother. He waited the long moments before Duessel nodded, and said to see to the two men. Franz what out of his saddle, and kneeling by his brother almost before the words came out of Duessel's mouth.

Forde looked alright, pale and scratched, but alive. Franz fumbled for a pulse, and relaxed. It was there, beating strong, if not quickly, against his hand. Franz breathed deeply, and smiled in relief. His brother was alive. L'arachel was soon kneeling next to him, checking Forde over.

"He seems fine, just like Sir Kyle, except for scratches, and his pulse is elevated." L'arachel frowned, and stood back up, petting her horse. "But where is Ephraim?"

Franz cursed himself silently. He had forgotten about Ephraim! His lord, he had forgotten about his lord! Franz stood, glancing around, and the horses caught his eye again. Kyle's stood with his head low, and his side heaving. Forde's staggered forward a drunken step, and stumbled almost to her knees. She heaved as well, her nostril's quivering with each breath.

With a blush Franz remembered his own horse, and turned to see Colm holding both the pack beast, and Franz's mare. Franz slowly moved towards his brother's horse, watching her carefully. The mare rolled her eyes, but didn't move. He caught he gently, and looked her over. Sweat, despite the cool weather, soaked her, and lather had formed between her legs, and under the saddle.

"It looks like Prince Ephraim is not here, with his men," Lute observed flatly from Wall-eye's back. "His horse is not here either." Franz nodded, and carefully urged Forde's mare to walk. She staggered again, and each step seemed dizzy. A drunken man could have done better then she was. What was wrong with her? Her limbs looked sound, and no injury was obvious.

"Something happened here." Duessel was on the ground, looking at the scuffed turf. It was turf churned by many hooves and feet. Franz looked down, his unease heightening. "These," Duessel pointed to one of the few clear hoofmarks, "are Grado cavalry horses. They have heavy shoes, and notches in three places." Duessel point to another mark. "This is a Renais cavalry horses mark, but too light to be carrying a mounted man."

"So what's happened?" Colm asked, peering at the ground. "And why is just Prince Ephraim gone?"

"I don't know, but..." Duessel stood again. "Colm, come with me. We'll search further. Lady L'arachel, Franz, and Lute stay here and see if you can't wake those two up." Duessel motioned towards the unconscious knights, and swung onto his horse. "Do not leave here, and keep a close watch Franz." Franz nodded, and saluted as well. Lute dismounted, and took Franz's horse from Colm, who wearily mounted again, and rode off with Duessel

"Now, let's try this." L'arachel pulled a staff from her saddle pouch, and walked over to Kyle. Franz sighed, and collected Kyle's stallion as well. The stallion staggered as well, nearly knocking Franz over, and not offering any of his normal 'playful' bites. Franz secured the two horses, and found Lute had finished doing the same to the two horses she held.

Franz sat down by his brother, and watched L'arachel preform various cures on Kyle. Franz checked his brother's pulse again, and found Forde's neck was slick with sweat. Franz smoothed his brother's sweat slicked hair from his face, and glanced to the two heaving horses. Dazed, that's what the horses were, but how?

Lute plucked and arrow from the ground, but the arrow had no head. Instead a loose cloth sack was attached to the end. Lute frowned, and sniffed the cloth. Her frown deepened, and she looked over at L'arachel. "You can stop trying to cure them. They won't wake up until the poison wears off."

"Poison?" L'arachel sounded puzzled, and Franz frantic. His brother had been poisoned? How, and what kind of poison? Franz mind scrambled over itself.

"What kind of poison Lute?" L'arachel asked, frowning at the mage.

"What kind? Kettlecock, or course. It causes complications in muscle coordination, and in large doses loss of consciousness," Lute explained with a thoughtful look on her face. "But this isn't just Kettlecock, it's something else a well. Kettlecock can be minorly explosive when mixed with certain other herbs, or when packed tightly together. If a tight pack of Kettlecock was tied to an arrow it could be used to spread the poison around a large area. It would knock out the people at the center of the explosion easily, if there was enough."

"Kettlecock?" L'arachel tapped her chin, and looked at her staff. "I've never heard of that."

Lute stopped short of rolling her eyes. "Kettlecock has many other names, but it is irrelevant now. The only thing to do is wait for the knights to regain consciousness. There is no antidote for Kettlecock."

Franz looked between Kyle and Forde nervously. "But they'll be okay once the poison wears off, won't they?"

"Of course, but Kettlecock does not effect the cardiovascular system, so something else is elevating their heart rates, which could cause later complications," Lute rambled on, picking up two more arrows with no heads, but cloth attached to them.

"Foxglove elevates the pulse," L'arachel said slowly. "Yes or course! I, the beautiful L'arachel have come up with the solution! Do not worry Young Franz, your brother and his fellow knight will face no permanent harm." Franz smiled wearily, but something else began bothering him. Something that twitched in the back of his mind.

"But if you are close enough to shoot poison, wouldn't you also be close enough to shoot real arrows?" Franz asked. He turned as two horses approached.

"Not if you want one of them alive," Duessel said, riding up again. His face was dark, and Franz hardly needed the words that came from the man's mouth to know what had happened. He knew what it meant to take a man alive, and why. "Prince Ephraim has been taken to Grado Keep."

Franz heart still skipped a beat when he heard it, and L'arachel gasped into her hands. Colm looked just as grave as Duessel for once. "The tracks lead to the Keep's entrance, and General Duessel and I are pretty sure that's where they took Prince Ephraim."

"Get the men up, and hurry, we have to return quickly." General Duessel swung off his horse, and L'arachel launched into an explanation of the men's state. Franz swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. They had let Prince Ephraim fall into Grado's hands, and now they had to get him back.

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Ephraim had been very surprised to wake up slung painfully across the pommel of a saddle, and tied loosely. His first instinct had been to move, and find out where he was, but he had stayed still. It had been easy enough to fool the men into thinking he was unconscious still, since his own mind was clouded, and his limbs leadened. The hardest part had been slipping out of his bindings, and escaping from the cell he had been placed in.

Now Ephraim, covered in a stolen cloak, moved clumsily down the halls of Grado Keep, ducking in and out of servant's paths. The gravity of the situation had just caught up with him. He was practically weaponless, his Reginlief had been taken from him, as well as his belt dagger, and boot dagger. He still had one small dagger hidden in his sleeve, but it would do him little good if he had to fight.

The walls of Grado Keep seemed oppressive, and sinister. Night had fallen long ago, and most of the torches were unlit. Ephraim's heart was pounding, and sweat dripped off him despite the cold night air. He was shivering actually, and pulled the cloak close to him. He was slowly regaining control of his body, and slowly making his way out of Grado Keep. He was beginning to wonder if he could make it out before he was discovered missing.

Ephraim looked down another dark corridor, and hurried along it. He was almost sure this was the way out. This was a place in the Keep he was very unfamiliar with. He nearly stumbled into the light from a cracked door before he noticed it. Ephraim reeled back, and fell noisily against a wall. He cursed himself, and cautiously moved forward again. No alarm sounded from inside the room, but he could hear someone talking. Ephraim crept forward and peered carefully through the crack.

"But still, I have to wonder if I've really done the right thing. The right thing for Grado, for me, and, and for you... I suppose it is too late for second guesses. I have to be strong, and focus my mind on what is ahead of me. I have to believe I did make the right choice, and swallow whatever it brings my way." A hacking cough stopped the words, and Ephraim's mouth went dry.

Lyon sat on the floor, looking just to the right of the door, one hand over his mouth as he coughed. It was an awful cough that seemed to come from the depths of Lyon, and shook him hard. Ephraim acted on instinct, and stepped into the room. "Lyon.." Lyon's head jerked up, red flecking his lips.

"Ephraim!" Lyon sounded strained, and his eyes darted to the right of the door again, and Ephraim looked as well. He barely had time to duck the spear coming for his head, but the butt of the spear caught him in the stomach. His arms flew up, trying to save his head from a blow, but the force of the hit sent him off his feet, and rolling across the floor.

The Emperor of Grado swung his barbed lance again, aiming for Ephraim's head. Ephraim rolled back and scrambled to his feet. The next blow sent his staggering against a wall, cornered. Ephraim looked around desperately for some escape, but found none. Vigarde raised his lance again, preparing to gore Ephraim.

"Stop!" Lyon's amazingly strong command jerked Vigarde to a quick stop, and Lyon scrambled forward. "You are not to kill him, Father." Lyon came forward, one arm pressed to his stomach. He walked with a slight stagger, and knelt quickly by Ephraim. Lyon coughed hard, doubling his head to his knees. Blood slipped past his fingers, running down them. Ephraim glanced from Lyon, and stared at the eyes of Vigarde. Two empty eyes started at him, devoid of life.

"You can not kill him, not ever," It was no longer Lyon's voice, but a twisted parody of it. Rasping, and rattling in his friends throat the voice sent shivers through Ephraim. Blood ran from Lyon's mouth, down his fingers, and dripped on the floor. A demonic craze hazed one of Lyon's eyes, and the other, a blind eyes, was hidden in shadow. Ephraim's breath caught as he stared between the two monsters. The dead Emperor, and the hoarsely chuckling demon to his left.

"No, you can not die yet Ephraim, I need you yet."

**A/N: Heya! Thank you for the reviews! They were very much appreciated, and now you have the next chapter. I'm gonna try to update this quickly, but I'm not sure how it will play out yet. Oh, and if you didn't know-tacksaddle, and bridle, so 'tacking' means putting stuff on yours horse. Kinda obscure term there, gomen. And please excuse my awful made up poison. Kettlecock is by no means real...**

**Okay, now you need to review, and tell me what I missed, what you liked, and stuff like that! Jaa ne!**


	3. Living Dead

**_Disclaimer_**: I do not own Fire Emblem: Seima no Kouskei, or any charcters used so far-save the generic gaurds-

Hey! Please reveiw if you're reading! I like feed back!

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_The moment King Fado entrusted Princess Eirika into my care I knew he didn't except to live. I knew he was entrusting his country's future to me-my country's future. I was to protect her with my life, and make sure she made it through the tough days ahead. Prince Ephraim as well. Princess Eirika said she wanted us to go with her brother, and make sure he kept safe. She said he brother would be in more danger then she would be, and ordered me to protect him, and bring both him, and myself back alive._

_"We will need a strong hand, and quick mind to help us when this is over, General Seth," She told me, smiling sweetly. She swore to keep herself safe, and entrusted her brother to my care._

Colm walked wearily at the head of the drunken horse, and glanced at Franz. The knight's expression was pure, sick worry. Colm shook his head, and looked back to the horse he was leading. Duessel and L'arachel had left with Kyle and Forde lashed to saddles-most uncomfortable- and Colm, Franz, and Lute had been charged with bringing the staggered horses back. When the creatures woke up enough the walkers could ride, but for now the horses were threatening to trip over their own feet.

"Hey, Franz, stop worrying. You heard what L'arachel, and magic girl said. Kyle and your brother will be fine," Colm said softly, even his whisper sounded loud in the silence.

"I know, but there is also Prince Ephraim," Franz reminded the thief with a deepening frown. "He's been captured."

Cold rolled his eyes skyward. "Don't worry about Prince Ephraim either. He can take care of himself better then most people think. He's smart, he'll keep himself out of trouble." Franz nodded silently, but his expression only altered slightly. Colm sighed, Why did he even bother? It was like getting Neimi to stop blubbering, nearly impossible. Franz was much too serious.

"The escort Duessel promised to send should be meeting up with us soon," Lute's disinterested statement made Colm jump, and he growled under his breath. Did she have to talk so _loudly_? Why not yell and bring the entire army of Grado down on them? Colm gripped Kyle's stallion's reins tighter, and grimaced. He did not want to be holding the beast when he woke up. The fiend would probably take a chunk out of the thief. That was gratitude from a horse.

"The sooner the better," Colm grumbled.

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It was a nice room, for a prisoner. A simple bed, chair, a table, a fireplace, and a chamber pot were the only furnishing in the room. Only two doors lead out of the room, both of them heavily locked, and the main door guarded. The other door was a servant's door. Ephraim sat on the bed, cold despite the fire in the hearth, and thinking. 

He already knew his situation was abysmal, and he should count out rescue. It would be a waste of time to just wait around to be saved. He would have to think of a way to get himself out, and carry what he had learned to his comrades.

What had he learned? Ephraim was not sure. Something was wrong with Vigarde, and Lyon. Something was very wrong with Lyon. Ephraim didn't remember much after being told he 'couldn't die yet', but he assumed that Vigarde had knocking him out. That would also explain the large head ache that pounded against Ephraim's skull.

The servants door opened, but Ephraim only looked up. Sitting up quickly was the best he could manage without being sick. He knew it wasn't from his headache, but he couldn't figure out where the nauseous feeling had come from. It was a Grado soldier who bore a tray of broth. Two more followed him, one staying by the door, and the other accompanying his fellow to the table, and back. Only that man at the door looked at Ephraim, and then he looked away quickly, biting his lip.

The soldier came twice so far, each time with broth. Ephraim had been only able to watch them, and think. He couldn't move too quickly, or he would be sick. He had discovered that the hard way, and spent the hours after pitifully trying to recover. He felt sapped of everything, weak, and noodle limbed. Ephraim sighed, and carefully edged to the end of the bed. He couldn't escaped if he didn't keep his strength up.

Ephraim pushed his feet to the ground, and stood very carefully. His stomach churned, and his head banged angrily. Ephraim gritted his teeth, and forced himself to take a step. The world spun, tilting him almost off his feet, and slipping him against a wall. Ephraim gasped, and stayed where he was. He didn't even mind that the stone wall was frigid. Slowly, and very carefully, Ephraim made his way towards the table.

By the time he reached the table his head hurt worse then it had when he had first woken up, and his stomach threatened to heave up everything he had managed to keep down earlier. Ephraim carefully sat back down, and leaned his head into his hands. His vision was fuzzed, and his thoughts were now scattered. He couldn't pull them together anymore. He knew the sensation would pass, and he would suffer no permanent harm from it, but while it lasted it was very disconcerting.

The main doors opened, something that had not happened since Ephraim had been in the small room. Ephraim watched in high suspicion as Lyon walked through the doors, and shut the doors behind him. Ephraim tensed, still confused by his last encounter with his friend. Lyon looked Ephraim over, and smiled in relief.

"Thank goodness, I was not sure if you were hurt very badly or not," Lyon said, walking towards the table. He seemed every bit to be the Lyon Ephraim remembered, except for the blind left eye.

"Lyon, what is going on?" Ephraim asked quickly, trying to force his mind to work better. He had to know what was going on, and why Lyon was holding him prisoner. "Why am I here?"

Lyon paused, stiffly, his mouth working for a moment over Ephraim's words. "Because the dungeon cells are all full right now, and _he_ needs you close right now."

Ephraim stared silently for a moment, trying to make more sense of Lyon's words. He wished his head would stop spinning. "He- do you mean Emperor Vigarde?"

"My father?" Lyon looked surprised, hurt, and he grinned tightly. "No, not my father. Father, he..." Lyon shook his head. "Ephraim, my father's dead..."

"He's...dead?" Ephraim frowned deeper, looking closely at Lyon. "But he was alive yesterday." Lyon winced, and shook his head.

"No, Ephraim, no, he, he has been dead for months maybe more, but, Ephraim," Lyon's voice was strained, almost frightened. "I think I've done something horribly wrong."

Emperor Vigarde had been dead for months? If Vigarde was dead, then who had been with Lyon? Unease crept into Ephraim as Lyon looked at him, biting his lip. "Your father, Emperor Vigarde, is dead, and he has been dead for months?" Lyon nodded, and Ephraim's unease doubled. Lyon couldn't have-it wasn't even really possible for Lyon to have...

"Ephraim," Lyon whispered. "He died, and I didn't know what to do. He died, and I'm not strong enough to lead. I was supposed to be strong enough, but I knew I wasn't. I couldn't be, not when he told me not to tell, and, and.." Lyon reached across the table, and grabbed Ephraim's arm, his face white. "I didn't really mean to do it Ephraim. I know I shouldn't have, but, I couldn't..."

Ephraim's blood ran cold and his muddled mind began slipping pieces together. "Lyon, what did you do?" Ephraim shook his long-time friends arm, and Lyon stared at him, regret painfully visible. Ephraim gripped Lyon's arm tighter, and rose slightly. "Lyon, tell me what you did." It was a demand now, and Lyon flinched, looking away.

"I-I brought him back to life," Lyon's quiet answer sent Ephraim's knees to water, and he slammed back into the chair. He stared dumbly at Lyon, releasing him. Lyon refused to look at Ephraim, and hunched his shoulders.

"You-you brought him _back to life_?"

Lyon nodded, and forced his eyes to look at Ephraim. "I-it was _his_ idea," He told Ephraim softly, leaning forward, and grinning slightly. It wasn't a normal grin. It seemed mad. Mad with pain and desperation. It made Ephraim flinch, and made part of his quiver in fear. That was _not_ a look that belonged on Lyon's face. That was not a smile that belonged on the caring prince's face.

"Lyon, what's happened to you, and how did you bring your father back to life. Why-what's happening? Why did Grado attack Renais?" Ephraim forced himself to stand, and grabbed Lyon's arm. "Answer me, Lyon!"

Lyon winced. "It was _his_ idea! I have to Ephraim! I had to attack Renais, _he_ said-" Ephraim cut Lyon off by yanking him forward, and snarling softly.

Ephraim leaned forward, intent on knowing. He would find out who had attacked _his_ country. "No, tell me why Lyon! You're fathers dead, so who's pulling the strings? Who issued the attack on Renais?"

"My father," Lyon began, but the pressure on his arm stopped him.

Your fathers dead; you said so. Who really gave the order Lyon," Ephraim forced his voice quieter. "Lyon, please, tell me." Lyon stared at him, and coughed. Lyon's free hand flew to his mouth, and the scraping coughs shook his shoulders. Ephraim watched in growing alarm, remembering what had happened last time. Lyon retched, and blood slid wildly between his fingers, splattering on the table, on the floor, and over Ephraim's hand.

Lyon finally stopped, gasping hard, and blood trickled down his finger, and to the table, which was liberally covered in blood. "We both did," A voice rasped out through blood. "Lyon, and I." It was the same voice from before the awful scratchy voice that sent cold shivers through Ephraim's spine.

Ephraim gripped the arm he was holding tighter, and managed to keep contact with Thea one burning eye. It seemed to sear into his flesh, devouring him. "And who are you?"

Lyon's lips tuned up into a vicious smile, on which had never touched the prince's lips. "I, Ephraim of Renais, am the Demon King." Ephraim's hold went slack.

* * *

He could hear someone talking. Franz. It was most defiantly Franz talking, but to whom? Natasha, the sweet healer was explaining injuries to Franz. Something about kettlecock, and foxglove, but why would Franz want to know about those? A better question was why was he lying in a bed, when the last thing he remembered was being shot at. 

Forde opened his eyes, and wondered at the effort it took. "I know both you and Lute say he will be fine, but I can't help worrying. I'm sorry."

"I can understand. You care for your brother very much," Natasha reassured Franz. She would be smiling just slightly.

"Thank you for explaining it to me, Lady Natasha, I'm most appreciative," Franz thanked the cleric, and he would be smiling as well, with just a hint of a blush. Franz had never been a smooth talker, especially with women.

Natasha laughed very softly. "There's no need to thank me."

"Yeah, stop using my condition to chat up the ladies," Forde croaked, managing a very crooked grin. Franz scrambled into view, grinning brightly.

"You're awake!" Franz's unrestrained delight pushed an even wider smile on Forde's face. There was something very special about having someone like Franz around.

"No, I'm talking in my sleep," Forde's voice wavered, and he coughed.

"Brother, this is serious," Franz chastised. "How do you feel?"

"Feel? I feel like some attached weights to my eyelids, and every other part of my body, but all things considered I've felt much worse." Forde slowly pushed his elbows under him, and sat up. Natasha moved quickly, advising him to only move slowly, and Franz looked even more worried. Forde struggled into a sitting position, amazed at the sheer effort it took.

"Please, Sir Forde, don't push yourself. You've suffered a large does of poisons, and I think you have a mild concussion. You need to rest, and recover quickly," Natasha explained, looking to something to prop him up with.

"She's right Forde," Franz assured him, putting a supportive arm behind his brothers back. Forde sighed.

"Franz, I'm fine. I've had worse, and you've seen it. I can sit up at least," Forde complained, still smiling. "I'm not gonna break. What happened any way?"

"You-" Franz stopped, looking away nervously. Natasha stood, and moved to another pallet. Forde tensed when he saw Kyle lying on it.

"You fell off your horse," Franz finished softly.

Forde rolled his eyes. He had known that much. "I mean before. the last thing I remember is some shooting at us, and a really odd smell." Forde frowned, and caught Franz's evasive glance towards Kyle, and then back to Forde. "Kyle's alright, isn't he?"

"Kyle's woke been awake for a while now. It's you that has everyone worried," Franz laughed softly.

"Then Prince Ephraim must be doing better then both of us." Franz's face paled, and he looked away again. Forde tensed, and leaned off Franz's arm. "Franz, what about Prince Ephraim? What aren't you telling me?" Forde asked sharply. Franz winced, and took a shaky breath.

"Prince Ephraim has been captured by the Grado forces. He was attacked while scouting, and you were all knocked out by poisoned arrows. Beyond that we know nothing. He could be dead, for all we've been able to find out," Seth said suddenly as he walked in. Those words were a cold punch of dread to Kyle's stomach. His sight wavered for a moment, and Franz grabbed his shoulder.

"We know he's not dead. They wouldn't kill him, he's too much of a bargaining tool," Forde pointed out coldly. He had let his lord be captured. He cursed himself bitterly, and watched General Seth's expression. The tightly restrained anger was greater then any Forde had ever seen in the other knight, and Seth's slipped tones spoke volumes more then his eyes. This was very, very bad.

"You, however, should be resting and regaining your strength. If we are going to do anything we need a band of healthy soldiers." Seth nodded curtly to Kyle before he left. Natasha followed him, saying she would be back later.

As soon as Natasha was out of hearing Forde swore vigorously, and glared at his shaking hands. "I should have done something," He growled.

"Forde, you couldn't have. You were all knocked out by the poison before you even knew what was happening. There's nothing you could have done," Franz assured him.

"But, if it had been you riding with Prince Ephraim, you would be saying the same thing Franz. I know you would." Forde managed to keep his tone from biting, and Franz only nodded in understanding.

"I think you should lie down again brother," Franz suggested. "Natasha said you should be careful, and if you don't rest you'll never get better."

"Alright, alright," Forde lowered himself back down onto the pallet with a irrate sigh. "Sometimes I wonder who's really the older," He grumbled, trying to distract himself. It wasn't working. He still felt lower then dirt. Certainly he had messed up before, but never this much. He had made mistakes, but never completely failed in his duty. He grimaced, and knew he would have to work hard to repair the hole in himself, and his honor.

* * *

**A/N:Angst! Shock! Forde was acting a little too much like Sain from Rekka no Ken, and for that I apologize. Yes, you all knew that the Lyon is sharing his body with the Demon King, but Ephraim didn't. Thanks to those who did review-much love and hugs to you!**

**Jaa ne**


	4. Kill

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Seima no Kouseki

* * *

_I was always trying to catch up with him. I was always pushing myself to be just as good as him in many things, and better. I would spend long hours studying things that made little sense to me, and struggling to catch up, and surpass. I spent most of my time, however, sparring with him, and there was no resentment between us._

_I always got along well with him, even though we did fight to surpass each other in studies, and fought bitterly on several occasions. I knew I would never pass him in battle knowledge, and he knew he would never pass me in book knowledge. We respected each others fine points, but that didn't stop our sibling rivalry. We dragged Lyon into it as well, but he never quite understood how we could be so close, and strive so hard to surpass each other._

_It was just the way we were. Ephraim, and myself, the twins of Renais_

_

* * *

_

Eirika sat up in a cold sweat, her hair sticking to her face, and shaking. He pushed her hair from her face, and stared around the room she was in. It was the same room she had fallen asleep in, but she felt she should be somewhere else. Her hands were shaking slightly as she stood up, and paced the length of the room. She felt cold, unnaturally so.

Eirika grabbed her clothes, and quickly yanked them on. She walked to the window, and opened it. Moonlight, and fresh air rushed in, stirring around her, and then settling. She looked out the window, and then to the roof. A small walkway rounded the building under the windows, and if she could find a good foot hold she could make it onto the roof.

Eirika swung herself up onto the window sill, and looked across the small town. She carefully slid down, and touched her bare feet to the ledge. She had learned long ago that climbing was easier with bare feet. Eirika edge across the ledge, feeling the wall, and gauging the distance to the roof. Finally, satisfied with her findings. Eirika leaned out, and caught the edge of the roof.

She swung herself out, kicked off the wall, and heaved herself up, thankful the roof was in good repair. Eirika crouched in the roof, and then scrambled up it some more. She settled herself on the roof, and looked across the town again. She used to climb up onto the castle roof above her room when she was younger. She felt smaller when she could see so far, almost frighteningly small. She smiled, and leaned her chin on her knees.

"Ephraim, I hope you are taking care of yourself," She spoke into the air, wishing to hear an answer. Of course, there was none, but an odd feeling began settling in Eirika's chest, and she frowned. Alone in the night she felt afraid, but not for herself, for her brother.

She jumped when two hands appeared on the roof, and were followed by Saleh's head, and then the rest of him. The sage smiled at Eirika. "I hope I am not intruding."

"Not at all, I would be glad for the company," Eirika responded truthfully. Saleh nodded, and sat down beside Eirika. Eirika watched the land below for a while, then ventured to break the silence. "Saleh, do you ever get the feeling someone very close to you is in danger?" Eirika blushed when she heard her words spoken aloud, knowing the sounded childish.

Saleh nodded. "I do, at many times it is a right feeling. It is mostly for my pupil though, and he is often in one sort of trouble or another." Saleh paused, looking up, and then looked to Eirika. "If I may ask, who is it that your afraid for?"

"My brother," Eirika answered. "I've had a growing feeling of dread for him all night, and now I can not sleep. I-I'm very worried Saleh."

"He is strong Eirika, and has many people to watch out for him. I'm sure he will be safe," Saleh assured.

"That is my prayer," Eirika said testing a smile. The prayer, and hope fondest to her heart, but she left that unsaid.

* * *

Ephraim found himself, once again, waking up with a headache. This time he knew exactly why, and why his arm felt like it was on fire. Ephraim slowly pulled his head from the table, wincing as the congealed blood torn from his face. The table was now covered in many splatters of blood, most of them from Lyon, but some was from the splits in Ephraim's head, and lip.

Ephraim gently pulled the sleeve back from his arm, wincing as the stiff cloth refused to move without grating against the abused flesh underneath. A hideous burn spread down Ephraim's forearm, the dark, swollen burn of a black magic attack. Ephraim hissed as he gently probed the flesh, feeling for numb spots. There didn't seem to be any. His entire fore arm burned madly, and the unaffected flesh tingling unpleasantly. A burn from the legendary Demon King.

The Demon King's words still rang in Ephraim' head, coursed still with disbelief, and betrayal. How could Lyon have released the Demon King? The very thought that the Demon King was loose should have turned Ephraim's stomach, but Lyon's decision made him more sick. He had struggled, and was still struggling, to find a way to paint Lyon innocent. He still couldn't find one. He forced his fingers to move, causing more pain. Ephraim bit back the noises rising, and forced himself to keep moving his fingers. He could lose his hand if he didn't keep moving it.

The Demon King's scouring eye remained fresh in his mind. He could still hear the hissing words whispering to him about bringing Vigarde back to life, and the malicious smile that didn't belong on Lyon's face. Then the demon King had leaned closer, and whispered he needed a new body. He whispered that Lyon's body was breaking, and he needed a new one to conquer Magvel. He needed Ephraim's body. Ephraim had laughed, and denied the Demon King of legend, and then he had been told he had no choice.

The pulsing pain continued, and Ephraim bit off an oath. It _hurt_! The disgusting looking flesh was beginning to make Ephraim feel slightly ill. He leaned his head on the table, and sighed. He still moved his fingers, forcing them into an almost fist. The servant's door opened, and Ephraim looked up quickly, and saw two soldiers come in, and a healer. His vision swirled, and his head throbbed.

One soldier stayed by the door, and the healer and the other advanced. The healer held a bowl, and some bandages while the soldier carried a bowl of steaming broth. The healer bowed and set her things down. "Lord Ephraim-I ask you to allow me to treat your wound."

Ephraim watched the healer, knowing her to be one of Grado's, but the pain in his arm was worsening, and moving up his arm. "I will, but who sent you?"

"Lord Lyon did," The cleric replied, sitting across form Ephraim and laying her things down. She drew a small dagger, and placed it on the table, too far for Ephraim to grab easily. The guard watched them carefully, ready to move in an instant. Ephraim just watched, still wriggling his swollen fingers. "I'll need to release the infection," The cleric explained, picking up her knife. "It won't Heal unless I drain it first. Dark magic burns are supposed to be treated right after being given, and since yours wasn't it has festered."

Ephraim nodded, and watched the cleric. He knew that. He knew that a severe burn from strong Dark magic was worse then any other. It might not kill the victim right away, but the wound would fester, and kill the victim form the in side out. Ephraim tried to distract himself as the dagger point neared his flesh, but he still gasped when it slid into his arm. His arm was propped above the bowl the cleric had brought, and as the dagger cut pus, blood, and other fluids drained from the cut sluggishly.

The cut continued down his arm, a quarter of and inch past the burn. Ephraim watched with distant disgust as the infection oozed out into the bowl. The cleric prodded his arm, bringing angry flares of pain that shot up his arm, and a stronger flow from the cut. Ephraim clenched his teeth as the pain flared all the way to his shoulder, and his head pounded harder. The smell was beginning to make his stomach clench. It was the awful smell of something rotten.

Finally the cleric picked up her staff, and touched Ephraim's arm lightly. "Mend." The familiar sensation of muscles knitting too fast, and skin growing together sent chills through Ephraim, and made his vision spin violently. It took an amazing amount of will to keep his head from lolling back. His vision blurred dangerously before sliding slowly back into focus. Ephraim was gasping, and leaning heavily on his good arm.

"It's still not completely healed up, but I can't do much more for it right now. It will scar, badly," The cleric said as she began covering Ephraim's tender arm in slave, and readying her bandages. "What you need to do is rest, and not to use your arm at all." Ephraim watched as she bound the affected spot in pristine white bandages, and the soldier grabbed the bowl of drainage. A bowl of broth was placed again on the table along with a stale roll.

The men cleric left, and the guard followed, watching Ephraim closely. Ephraim groaned through his teeth as the men disappeared through the small door, and forced his mind to think. Why had Lyon sent the healer? The question forced another tiny bubble of hope into existence. Hope that Lyon was some how not the villain he seemed.

Ephraim looked at the food, and felt the niggling of hunger deep in his stomach. If he ignored it he would be ravenous later. He never remembered getting to the bed after he finished the food, but he did remember the musty material hitting his face, and the sick feeling that washed over him when his arm hit the bed.

* * *

Gerik's axe split the wood neatly in two, shattering the winter air. Ewan grabbed up the two split pieces, and stacked them by the tent. It was lucky to find a tree almost freshly fallen, and perfect for firewood. Ewan watched as Gerik shattered an piece in two, and he moved to pick them up.

Gerik paused, looking up at the bleak winter sky. "It's going to be cold tonight," He mused, smiling slightly. The cold rarely bothered Gerik, or the heat for that matter.

"I wish it wasn't," Ewan pouted slightly, picking up his wood with a frown. "I _hate_ sleeping in a tent when it's this cold."

"You shouldn't whine so much Ewan," Tethys reprimanded, tapping him on the head. "Our brave men must rouse themselves at unheard of hours and watch out for enemies, and you get to spend all night sleeping under a warm blanket."

"No one will let me take a watch!" Ewan exclaimed. "They let Ross and Amelia watch, but I don't get to."

"Garcia only lets Ross watch once a week, and Amelia trained in Grado for a few years so she knows how to keep watch," Gerik intoned lightly, cutting off Ewan's tirade. Ewan frowned, and tossed the last of the wood on the pile.

Ewan looked up, and sighed. The gray sky looked cold and forbidding. He glanced at his sister, and frowned. "Isn't your stomach cold?"

"What? No, of course not!" Tethys laughed, and tugged her cloak closer. "You're much too sensitive to the cold Ewan. It gets twice as cold as this is other places!"

"I'd rather stay somewhere warm," Ewan grumbled.

"Cheer up," Tethys commanded with a smile. "Now, the real reason I came to get you two was supper is ready, and after all this hard work you've done I'm sure you need it." Tethys winked at Gerik, and twirled around on her toes. Ewan frowned as Gerik smiled, and followed his sister quickly. He really hated it when people made moves on his sister.

"Tethys, do you know how the wounded knights are doing?" Gerik asked, rubbing the wood chips from his axe.

"Oh, physically their wounds have healed, but Sir Forde is still shaky on his feet. It's their honor that's still not recovered," Tethys sighed. "Knights and their honor."

"It is better then being honor less," Joshua commented, appearing suddenly beside Ewan. "How far can you trust an honor less man anyway?" Ewan jumped away, and tripped over a lance. The clatter of the weapon falling was louder then Ewan though possible, and his cheeks were heating up fast.

"Oh, Ewan!" Tethys whipped around, her face caught between worry and exasperation. Ewan didn't know wether to be thankful it was Gerik who pulled him to his feet or mortified. Joshua was watching with raised eyebrows, and a laughed seemed to be playing behind his closed lips. Ewan stood up quickly, and hid the wince as he stood on his ankle. The lance had cut it, but it didn't feel very bad.

"I'm fine," Ewan said, wishing they would all stop looking at him. Tethys studied him critically for a moment, and then turned back around. Despite everything she was still a very good sister, even if sometimes Ewan felt older then she was, and that she was far too friendly with the men around camp.

The entire camp seemed subdued as they walked through it. No normal cheerful chatter greeted them, and even L'acharel was mostly silent. The worst people where the citizen's of Renais. They made everyone else seem cheerful. Forde especially. The usually cheerful knight was often scowling, and looking angrily at nothing.

A cold wind whipped past Ewan, and he didn't hold back his shudder. He knew a lot more about what was going on then anyone told him. He had to figure things out himself, and the more he learned the more he wished he wasn't learning what he was. It scared him, and he wished that his teacher was there to help. Saleh wasn't there, however, and Ewan was.

**A/N:Wee, well, slowly we make progress, and jump around with other people. If you couldn't tell it was Eirka at the beginning, and, for some reason, she struck me as a tomboy. Sorry if you didn't think of her that way.Thanks for the reveiws guys! Jaa ne**


	5. The Monster

_**Disclaimer:**I do not own Seima no Kouseki, or any characters used thus far.-excluding random soldiers-_

_

* * *

_

_It was always hard trying to live up to people's expectations. I tried. I worked hard and long to be like my father, and live up to what everyone thought I should be. I was his son, so I should be just as good a knight as him. I tried to be, and I pushed myself to be that. No matter how hard I tried I came short. I wasn't living up to the expectations people had put one me. I made myself miserable trying, and I still couldn't make it._

_I stopped trying one night. I decided I could either try to be someone I wasn't, and was never going to be, or I could cut loose, and be me as I had been when I was younger. I decided to enjoy life as myself, and I loved it. Everyone stopped expecting great things, and I became a nusance, but I liked it better then being someone who constantly lived for others approval. I was a lazy, loose, flamboyant knight, but at least I was competent._

_

* * *

_

A camp of over twenty people required a lot of water. Usually two or more people went out twice a day to get the water required with one of the solid wagon beasts. Joshua heaved the bucket over his head, and sloshed the water into one of the barrels on the mule's sides. Luckily the mule was a short creature, and had thick enough fur not to mind a minor splashing of winter stream water.

Joshua minded the sprinkling much, but he said nothing. He had volunteered to get water to get out of camp, and now that he was out he was trying to banish the gloomy atmosphere from his mind. His companions only helped a little. Artur was quiet at the best of times, and he could hardly be expected to lift the mood. Dozla, however, was loud and boisterous, and full of tales that ranged from mythical to hilarious. The stories were all about L'acharel, but not all of them were flattering.

Joshua chuckled as he filled his bucket again. He had not forgotten the situation at camp by any stretch of the imagination, but he felt brooding constantly over it would do no good. It was very unlikely that Ephraim had been killed or seriously wounded.

Dozla laughed his booming laugh that seemed to shake the ground, and Artur was trying not to laugh. Laughing at other peoples embarrassment was something the monk tried religiously to avoid, but it didn't always work. Joshua let himself laugh, but he stopped when he tried to lift the bucket. His arms were beginning to ache. He paused, hoping to lengthen his time away from camp. Dozla had no such reservations, and was quickly filling his barrel. The mountain of a man hefted his full bucket as if it was nothing. Joshua, being nearly of height with Dozla, but not half as wide, felt suitably scrawny. Artur had given up trying to heft the buckets almost over his head when he had dumped one over himself.

Artur stood, not suddenly, but almost too slowly to be normal. He slipped past Dozla, and to the mule's head. "There's a Gargoyle watching us."

Joshua faltered, and forced himself not to stare. A monster was _watching _them "Are you sure it's watching us?"

"Yes, it's been there for a while, and I think if it were doing anything else it would have moved by now." Artur spoke in a low voice, and smoothed the mule's forelock.

Joshua frowned. "Can you kill it from here?"

"I should be able to," Artur replied, not even glancing at the two light magic tomes tucked into his sash. "Should I?"

"I don't want a monster watching me longer then I can help it," Joshua said, turning around with his bucket. "Does Dozla know?"

"Not yet."

"Kill it, and hurry." The thought of a monster, supposedly mindless and blood-thirsty, watching them made Joshua distinctly uneasy. That wasn't right. He moved towards Dozla, and before the warning was out of his mouth The air heated, and the flash of Light magic left dazzles before Joshua's eyes.

"Monsters!" Artur shouted, warning them both as a Wight leapt from the opposite bank, and into the stream. Dozla dropped his bucket, and Joshua jumped forward, ready for battle. A hand axe hissed past him striking the Wight with devastating force. Joshua, hindered by the water splashing around his ankles, knocked the Wight's head form its body, and parried a blow from the headless skeleton.

Another magic burst sent more dazzles across Joshua's vision, but the monster dropped into a simple pile of bones and old armor. Joshua frowned, and looked around. There seemed to be no more. A Gargoyle was fast disappearing over the horizon, but when hurt monster's retreated quickly. Joshua smirked, and wiped his blade on his coat, though he had gotten no blood on it.

"Ah, calm down," Artur said to the mule, who had been frightened by the magic and Monsters. Dozla took the skittish beast from Artur's hand, and the mule had little chance of escaping from Dozla's iron fisted hold. That was good, because the last the Joshua wanted to do was chase down the mule.

"Well, do you still think it was watching us, Artur?" Joshua asked, feeling better now that the Monster's had shown suitable behavior.

"Yes, and two Gargoyle's flew off without even attacking us." Artur looked more worried then before. "It isn't in their nature to abandon a fight when they have us so outnumbered, and I think the Wight was being a distraction."

Artur's observations sent a warning jolt along Joshua's spine. It was purely intuition, but as a prolific gambler he had learned to listen to his gut feelings. A gut feeling could be the difference between a full purse or a gutter for a bed. " I think more water will have to wait. The Generals might want to hear about this."

* * *

How many days had passed? Ephraim found his grasp of time slipping. He slept too much to know what time it was. There was little else for him to do but run his mind in circles and he was too tired to think. He was beginning to think something had gone wrong with the healing spell. His arm still burned, constantly, and it shook when he tried to use it. Ephraim groaned through his teeth.

He prodded his arm, and bit back the oath that leapt to his mouth. Hesitantly he unwrapped the bandages, and looked at his arm. His entire for arm was red, the angry red of a wound that isn't healing well. Ephraim touched the bare skin, and nauseating pain shot up and down his arm. His hand clenched of its own violation, and he gagged.

His breath caught, and came in ragged gasps. Ephraim was used to being hurt, but this was the worst injury he had ever received. Ephraim drew another breath, trying to steady his swimming head and twisting stomach. He forced himself up right, and looked at his arm again. It was swollen, but it no loner looked infected. Maybe it would heal. Maybe he would be able to use his arm again.

The large doors swung open suddenly, and Lyon walked in. Ephraim recoiled, his entire body stiff. He watched carefully as Lyon closed the door, and looked at him. Lyon looked uncertain, and he leaned against the door, nibbling on his lower lip. That had always been a sign Lyon was unsure of something when they had been younger. Who knew what it meant now.

"Ephraim-" Lyon stopped, and then walked across the room, his steps hurried. "I-" He stopped, and looked at Ephraim again. His gaze came to rest on Ephraim's arm, and he closed his eyes. "I am sorry, I really am."

"You are sorry?" Ephraim couldn't keep the bite from his voice. He didn't want to. "You released the Demon King, Lyon, what were you thinking?"

"No not that," Lyon bit back his words, and shook his head. "I am sorry you got dragged into this. I didn't want him to hurt you-"

Anger stirred in Ephraim and he looked at Lyon sharply. "So you let him attack my Country? You both did it, and you are telling me you did not want me hurt? Lyon you killed my father, and you destroyed Renais!"

Lyon winced, and he sat down suddenly on the bed. He looked at the floor. "I know that. I wanted to fix everything, and that's why I released the Demon King, but so far-so far I have only made things worse, but, Ephraim, I will not let him take your body."

That caught Ephraim off guard, and his anger melted he stared, and for a moment it was the old Lyon sitting across from him. "You will not?"

Lyon laughed a laugh that was not the old Lyon's in any way, and smiled at Ephraim. It was a jagged broken smile that made Ephraim want to look away. "No, I released the Demon King, and I will be his body. I do not want to let him into anyone else. He thinks differently, and wants a stronger body. He thinks I am too weak, which I was, but now, now I am strong enough."

"Strong enough to do what?" Ephraim asked, almost afraid of his answer. Lyon no longer looked like he had before everything had gone sour. He had an oddly mad look in his face, and a malice in his voice.

"To lead Grado, and protect her," Lyon said, and then he laughed softly. "That is what started all this in the first place, but he told you that, did he not?" Lyon coughed, a hard cough that rattled in his chest, and made Ephraim wince. It was much dryer then the other coughs he had heard from Lyon, but it was still sickly deep.

The fit continued, shaking Lyon and Ephraim wondered if the Demon King would take over again. Lyon finally pushed himself almost up right, wheezing, and clutching his side. He smiled a little at Ephraim. "I was never as strong as you Ephraim. I was never strong enough to be a warrior, but I tried. I tried."

"Not strong enough?" Ephraim rose, his anger kindled again. "Of course you were! You've made yourself weak Lyon! You were always strong enough to lead Grado, no matter what happened! You didn't need to release the Demon King and revive your father! You were strong enough to lead the people by yourself, and the Generals of Grado would have followed without question! Deussel knew you would make a wonderful leader, and so did everyone else!"

"No, I was not," Lyon stood, steadying himself on the bed post. "I was not Ephraim! I could not have done anything else!" Lyon staggered forward, coughing again, and caught himself on the table. "I was not ready to lead Grado, and I would have led her and her people to destruction!"

"You are leading them that way now, along with the rest of Magvel idiot!" Ephraim's hot blood got the better of him, and his well hand struck out. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was deafening, and the blow actually knocked Lyon to the floor. Lyon stared, violet eyes wide with shock, and perhaps, hurt buried deep. Lyon's hand touched his cheek gingerly, and he stood slowly. He coughed again, and staggered before regaining his balance. Ephraim stared in shock as well, but he was still angry.

The servant's door opened, and Lyon turned to face the soldiers. The soldiers stopped, and bowed. Lyon scowled, and swept out of the room. Ephraim sank down, and realized his arm was filled with stabbing pain all the way to his elbow. Ephraim gritted his teeth, and blinked rapidly. The soldiers came in again, setting down their customary broth and stale bread. The soldier he laid the things on the table looked worried. His face was vaguely familiar.

"I'm sorry, Lord Ephraim," He whispered very softly, touching his heart in a gesture of respect. Ephraim watched the soldier as he moved back, and the two left. There was another reminder of how close Renais and Grado had been. Ephraim stared as the small door closed, and forced down the odd noise rising in his throat.

**A/N:Aah, short, but up. I tried to make this chapter longer, but it didn't flow right. Thank you for the reveiws, and don't forget to reveiw now! Jaa ne!**


	6. Break Them

_Loyalty to the Emperor and to Grado. I swore that. I swore to protect Grado's people with my life, and serve the Emperor with the same. I thought they would always coincide. I thought that the Emperor's commands would always be good for the people of Grado in the long run. He was the Emperor, and how could he not care for his people? He was nearly as kind as his son, and Lyon could not even be imagined to hurt any law abiding citizen. Things change, no matter how sure of them you are._

_I was shocked y the order to attack Renais. I thought I was dreaming. I hoped I was. I knew I wasn't. Renais was attacked, and the people of Renais were left in squalor. bandits ran mad, and people died by the hundreds. The people of Grado were being neglected as well. It was hardly something a concerned ruler would do. People were suffering. The people of Grado were suffering. I had a choice. I could serve the Emperor, or the people. I chose the people._

_

* * *

_

_Ephraim of Renais..._

Eirika stared at the paper in her hands, aware everyone was staring at her. The message had arrived early in the morning by way of Renais' usual sending method. Eirika knew they were waiting for her to give a command, any command. She knew they were waiting for her to tell them what lay in the letter she held. She knew they needed to know. She knew they had all rights to know, but she couldn't look away from the paper.

_has been captured by the Grado forces._

Her hands were shaking. They shook hard enough to threaten the paper's life. Her eyes burned. She blinked rapidly, and refused to cry. She would not cry! She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She just needed to relax, and think. It was fine. Her brother was strong. He would be fine.

_He was captured five days ago, and has not been seen or heard from since then._

Still, the message brought other questions to mind, why would Grado take her brother captive? Lyon certainly wouldn't allow it, or he would oppose it. Whatever Vigarde had up his sleeve Lyon would keep her brother safe. She hoped.

"Princess Eirika, are you all right?" Saleh asked. Eirika looked up quickly, and didn't even try to smile. She knew she wouldn't be able to.

"Ephraim," She took another breath to steady herself. Saying the words aloud made it much realer. "Ephraim has been captured-by Grado." There was a profound silence. Eirika worked the simple message in her hand, blinked rapidly.

"Ephraim's been captured?" Innes frowned, and seemed caught between disbelief and something else. Pride, maybe. Eirika nodded numbly, and handed the paper to Innes. Five days ago her brother had been captured. Five day ago she had woken up in a cold sweat. Eirika shivered, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Princess Eirika," Saleh said, simply watching her. He was waiting for her decision. How would her brother's capture effect her chosen path? It shouldn't, she knew. She should go on with what she was doing, and trust Seth to bring her brother back to her. She should, but she didn't want to.

Something deep inside her opposed the idea of leaving her brother to some unknown fate, and hoping he was alright. She wanted to be there, with the people trying to rescue him. She wanted to be part of bringing her brother home, and know that he was alright. She wanted to be with her brother again. Her twin, her other half. Should and want.

Eirika shook her head, and looked at Saleh and Innes. Innes would offer advice, but she knew that he would go along with what she said. "We'll continue as we have been, until we finish what we set out to do, then-" Her voice betrayed her, and she paused, gathering herself together. She had already lost her father to the war, and she wouldn't lose her brother. "we'll head to Grado."

Innes smiled smugly, and f he knew what she was going to do, and he approved. Maybe he did respect her calm reaction, and had expected her to fly into hysterics over her brother's capture instead. Eirika nearly smiled. She could be just as composed as he could. Even though her mind was a turmoil of thoughts and dread.

* * *

Seth wanted to disbelieve the report he was getting, but he couldn't. The men he was talking to knew about monsters, and they knew how monsters should act. None of them were prone to fantasies, except maybe Joshua, who looked too serious to be fantasizing at the moment. It still caused more problems then it solved.

Lute had been called, and she was puzzling over the information given to her. She questioned the witnesses to frustration, and now sat in silence, thinking. Duessel was watching her, his face drawn into a frown of contemplation, and distaste. He didn't like what he was hearing either, and Seth doubted Lute would have anything positive to say.

"Monsters," The Mage Knight began, startling everyone, "Supposedly only report to one person, and that is the Demon King, but very strong Anima mages, and Dark magic users have been known to control monsters. Usually weaker ones only, and not without great personal danger and loss."

"So only some one desperate or stupid would be using monsters to spy on us?" Joshua concluded with a weary look. He had grown tired of standing and waiting long ago.

"Or confident," Artur added, his face thoughtful. "But who would be using monsters to spy on us, and why not on the main camp? It's not very hard to find."

Duessel frowned. "That is a problem we should fix. If we are going to stay here any longer then we need to move our camp to a more strategic location. We are in enemy territory." There was a discreet flash of pain over Duessel's face.

"We should," Seth agreed. "We also need to scout and see if any more monster's are around." Seth looked back to the four people waiting. "Go tell everyone we'll be moving camp soon, and everyone needs to be ready." There was a choppy chorus of 'yes sir's and the four left. Seth sighed, and rubbed his temples.

'We should scout in the air, and on land," Duessel commented after a moment. "I would suggest sending Cormag, and myself to lead."

Seth nodded. "Vanessa can go with Cormag."

"I would like to take young Sir Franz with me." Duessel said. Seth looked up, and nodded. The former Grado General had noticed Franz potential, it seemed. Seth allowed himself a small smile.

"I think that would be good." Seth ran his hands through his hair, and took a precious moment to compose himself. "I'll post extra sentry's while the camp is being taken down, and tell them to watch for monsters, or men."

Duessel nodded. "These past few days have been a strain on us all, General Seth. I hope to bring Prince Ephraim back safe just as much as you do." Seth nodded, though he wondered if Duessel's words were entirely true.

* * *

The wind was cold, and bit Vanessa's exposed skin. She urged her pegasus, Sylvin, higher, and looked down at the land below her. Grado looked small, and innocent, if the dark patches of burned villages, and farms were ignored. Cormag's wyvern turned easily south, and Vanessa urged her pegasus to follow.

She glanced at Cormag, but he was examining the ground. No doubt he could pick out landmarks, but Vanessa was almost lost. She could find her way back to camp, but not much more then that. She tried to memorize the more prominent features of the view in hopes of being more help later on. She also kept a sharp watch out for any monsters; that was, after all, the fliers' prime objective.

Vanessa heard the air crackling, and her hair stood up on end. She felt the surge of muscles bunching in her pegasus. "Cormag!" The air shattered in sound and light. Vanessa saw the spell slam into Cormag's Wyvern, and she her ringing ears heard the creature's roar of pain. The wyvern's wings spasmed, and it began to fall. Vanessa could see Cormag trying to gain control of the wyvern again, and bring it out of its dive.

Vanessa's pegasus jumped when she urged it forward. She didn't know what she could do. Pull Cormag out of the saddle before he splattered on the ground? Finally, in an instant that made Vanessa's heart falter. The wyvern's head came up, and the great wings stroked weakly down. The next stroke was stronger, and after a few more heavy beats the creature was rising again.

The air crackled again, and another bolting spell lashed out at the injured wyvern. This time it dodged, and the attack whisked harmlessly by. Vanessa glanced to the ground, wondering who was attacking them. Sylvin suddenly twisted beneath her, and a Gargoyle barreled past them. It turned sharply, circling back. Vanessa was ready in an instant, and she slammed her lanced through the monster's head.

"LEFT!" Cormag's loud shout was her only was her only warning. The deathgoyle slammed into Sylvin, and the pegasus screamed. Vanessa was falling. It she realized quickly that her safety straps were the only thing that held her still in the saddle as Sylvin thrashed through the air, trying to get her flight back in control. Vanessa threw her weight forward, hoping to turn the wild fall into something better, but something slammed into the two with a sickening crunch, and they fell faster.

Something plunged through Vanessa' left leg, and the fall stopped with a jerk. Vanessa screamed as her safety straps jerked tight, and the thing in her leg ripped as she slipped. She grabbed frantically for the pommel of her saddle, and stared in horror at the deathgoyle that held her and Sylvin. The pegasus still thrashed, trying to beat of her attacker, but the held on.

Two gargoyles suddenly flew up, crashing into the deathgoyle. The deathgoyle's claws tore through Vanessa leg, and blood, both hers and Sylvin's, fell past her. It hit her face, and made her hands slip of the pommel. One gargoyle's clawed foot scraped across her right safety straps, and she heard them giving.

Suddenly she was falling again. She saw the tangle of red monsters, and wonder if she was free. One dove, and grabbed Sylvin again. Vanessa screamed when her left leg took the brunt of the jerk, cracking sickly, and she was falling again. she was falling alone now. She saw the ground approaching rapidly, and wondered if it would hurt much to hit the ground. It would definitely be better then letting the monster's eat her.

Claws suddenly closed around her again, but they were gentle. she saw the white underbelly of Cormag's wyvern, and felt the wing from it's massive wings as it slowed it's descent. It drove itself up into the sky, and Vanessa saw Cormag looking down at her. Gravity finally set in, pulling on her broken leg, and Vanessa fought down her scream. She didn't have to fight long. Everything faded out to blessed black very quickly.

**A/N:Ugh, way too long a wait for this chapter, but the chapter was done, then my jump drive went crazy and died. Excuses, excuses. I gotta say, I'm a little dissapointed in this story. It's not got a lot of reviews, so... Plesae, if you read, review; it really does motivate me to write faster! Well, anyway, reveiw. If you do review, I love you very much!**


	7. Deathly Loyal

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, or any characters used so far.**_

_I always considered Ephraim a rival, even when we were small. I was never going to give an inch of anything to him, and convinced myself he was a pompous, no good low life who couldn't be trusted. Ephraim, for some reason, never became very embroiled in our rivalry. He would take up my challenges, but more for my honor then for want, and often he beat me, except with a bow._

_Later in life, though I always still thought of him as a rival, I came to respect his strength. Ephraim was always strong, always quick and ready. He was always more adventurous then I was, and much more boisterous. He took up a task for the sake of seeing what it would bring, and not simply for his own gain. Eirika was always right there with him, matching almost everything he did with her own strength, and forcing him to become stronger as she did._

_Tana and I were never like that, and I envied Ephraim for the closeness he had with Eirika. He could talk to her about things that really mattered to him, and she would listen, and know what he was talking about. Part of me wished I could talk like that with Tana, but part of me knew we could never meet on any level like Eirika and Ephraim did._

_

* * *

_

Part of Ephraim insisted he had been here for months, but he knew it had only been a week, or maybe even less. His stomach insisted it was hungry, but he had just eaten,. His arm insisted it hurt, but it had been healed. His body refused to move fluidly, insisting it was weak, but he had eaten twice a day every day, and rested more then enough for two men.

Ephraim pushed himself off the bed he spent most of his time on, and waited for his head to adjust. It was tedious getting up and down. His body didn't want to support him, and his head hurt whenever he moved. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and waited for his mind to catch up with his actions. His heart pounded, and his arms shook, but he hadn't passed out yet. He usually passed out when he tried to stand up.

He wanted to stay down, and rest, but he needed to move around. He couldn't the Demon King know how badly he was doing. Ephraim had decided as long as he kept his strength and will up he could battle off the Demon King's attempts to take his body. So far there had been no attempts, except the first one, which Lyon had assured him wasn't really an attempt at all.

Lyon- Lyon was now a complication, and a mystery. Ephraim was angry at him, perhaps more then Lyon deserved, and sad. It was still hard to believe Lyon had unleashed the Demon King, and done another number of things that Ephraim had never thought him capable of. He had attacked Renais, and had Ephraim's father killed.

Ephraim forced himself to stand, and staggered. He took a few quick, and jerky steps to the nearby table, and grabbed it. His right arm burned when it touched the table, and he jerked it back, nearly knocking himself over. Ephraim's breath came fast, catching in his throat. He gritted his teeth, and resisted the urge to sit back on the bed and give up.

_'Eirika would beat you around the room twice for thinking such things,'_ Ephraim scolded himself, and forced himself to lean off the table, and walk a few steps. It wasn't as hard as he thought it might be, but his head still swam sickly. As he walked the feeling faded, and soon he felt he was in little danger of falling over, much less passing out. He had to hold his right arm to his chest, but he walked.

Ephraim finally allowed himself to sit down, and looked at the room. He had paced it several times, and convinced himself it didn't hurt as much as he wanted it to. He felt as if he should be falling over in agony, but he was really only achy, and in slight pain. His arm was the only thing that really hurt. His mind seemed to be his largest problem. It insisted things were different then they were, and that was troubling.

Certainly Ephraim had operated under more strenuous situations then the one he was currently in. He was sure he had. He had been sick during his campaign through Grado, and that hadn't slowed him down much. He was beginning to think the Demon King had adopted a new strategy for wearing him down. Ephraim knew very little about magic, but he was certain that 'illusions' could be cast by dark magic. Things that effected the mind, and not the body, but could, by the minds urgings, effect the body in ways the afflicted was not likely to notice.

That made Ephraim mad, and he stood up again. How dare the Demon King think him weak enough to succumb to an illusion! He was a seasoned fighter, the Prince of Renais, he would not let something as fickle as an illusion mess with him. He would not! He was already over coming it.

The large double doors suddenly opened. Ephraim spun around, and he fell. He cursed himself, and scrambled vainly for his footing. Lyon was striding towards him, but Lyon had never walked in such a way. Lyon, even now, never carried the dead look that held only malice and cunning. The Demon King stood in front of Ephraim, obviously gloating. It sent hot waves of fury through to see the Demon King standing there as if Ephraim was no threat.

Even unarmed Ephraim was a good fighter, and all he wanted to do was smash the Demon's face. He wanted to strike out as hard as he could, and make sure the Demon King never moved again. It was foolish, thinking he was any match for the legendary Demon King as he was, but he still wanted to try. Part of him raged against the thought of letting anyone, especially not the Demon King, gloat over his predicament.

"Yes, you could smash the frail face in front of you. You could do it easily. That's why your body is better. It's stronger then this one, so much stronger," the Demon King chuckled, though it almost sounded like he was choking, and drew a nail across Lyon's cheek. The skin tore like paper under the touch, and red blood welled over Lyon's cheek. The Demon King smirked. "Yes, it hurts, doesn't Lyon? How pitifully weak you are."

"Stop!" Ephraim jerked forward, and grabbed the Demon King's hand. The looked of amusement on the Demon King's face was sickening. The Demon King smiled, and Ephraim went cold.

"Does it still trouble you? Ever after everything Lyon's done? Even after he destroyed your country? You still don't want him to hurt? Shouldn't you want him dead? Don't you want him to hurt in any way you can?" The Demon King asked. The voice was too different to be Lyons, but part of it sounded like Lyon. Ephraim opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. He couldn't breath.

"It would be easier to give in, and just let me take over. It doesn't matter, after all. You won't be able to resist forever." The Demon King hissed. "The sooner you give in, the harder you can fight me in your body."

Ephraim hissed, which was the only sound he could manage, and scowled. The Demon King scowled, obviously catching the gist of Ephraim's retort. He scowled, and thought suddenly left Ephraim. Two cold fingers touched his forehead, and pain blossomed across his skin. It burned, shooting straight back through his skull, and branching along every nerve. Ephraim could only think of the pain as it burned along every inch of his body, encompassing him. He couldn't breath. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. All he knew was pain, and that if he succumbed to the nagging little voice he could be rid of the pain.

If he only stopped fighting for a little while he could be free of the mind-shattering pain.

* * *

Franz cinched his girth up tighter, and his horse shifted, pinning her ears, and looking back at her rider. Franz chuckled, and pushed her nose away from him. He wouldn't put it past the mare to try to nibble on him, if he wasn't careful. She was in a foul mood today.

"Easy girl, easy." Franz looked up, and found Forde holding the mare's nose, and rubbing her forehead. "There, that's it." Forde looked up from the horse, and smiled his normal teasing smile. "So, Duessel is taking you on another ride with him? You're moving up in the world, little brother."

Franz felt his cheeks heat, and checked his girth again. "We're going to looked for another place to camp."

"Yeah, I know. Vanessa and Cormag left a few minutes ago, but something tells me there looking more for monsters then anything else." Forde sighed, and leaned his head on the mare's head. "Be careful, okay?"

"I will," Franz promised. "Don't worry, you need the energy to get better." Franz smiled, and fastened his lance to the saddle.

Forde rolled his eyes, and smiled again. "I'm almost better, it's just Father Moudler who thinks I need to take it easy."

Franz smiled back. "But his opinion doesn't count much. After all, he's only been caring for wounded men since before you were born."

Forde rolled his eyes. "Want a leg up? Duessel is almost finished with his mountain of a horse."

"Sure," Franz agreed, not because he needed one, but it made Forde feel like he was doing something. Normally his brother was a supreme slacker, but lately he had been restless, and that was beginning to worry Franz. Forde grabbed Franz's ankle, and counted to three before helping boost his brother into the saddle. Franz bounced in time with the count, and pushed off hard on the third number.

Forde caught the mare's bridle, and looked up at Franz as the younger fixed his feet properly in his stirrups. "Be careful, okay Franz?"

Franz frowned slightly, and leaned down. He grabbed his brother's arm. "I will. I'm always careful about these things Forde. You be careful to, and don't do anything stupid, okay? We need you here."

Forde laughed, and brushed off Franz's hand. "I will be careful." Forde chuckled, and stepped back. Franz glanced at Duessel, and found the man already mounted, and ready to go. Franz tapped his mare's sides, and she jogged sedately up to Duessel's stallion. Franz saluted, and pulled his mare to stand square.

Duessel nodded to him, and turned his stallion away. "We'll be going towards a small mountain range. It should provide a suitably defensive position for us." Duessel supplied to more explanation as they moved through the camp. Franz felt uneasy, and wished he had told Forde to be careful one more time, or with more force. He always worried about what hair-brained thing his brother was going to do next, but lately the worry had turned into a fear.

Franz paused in his thoughts to wave slightly to Ewan, who was being extra cheerful to make up for everyone else's gloom, and looked back ahead of him. Everyone was preparing to move out, and most people only glanced at the two men as the rode out. On the edges of camp Artur sat with Mrryh, keeping watch. Mrryh looked at Franz in a way that made him shiver, and he realized he hadn't seen much of the dragon girl since Ephraim had been captured.

Duessel urged his stallion into a quick, lumbering trot, and Franz followed quickly. It was an easy pace to maintain for long periods of time, but he hoped they wouldn't keep it up for too long. If they had to run then it would be easier to get away with fresh horses. It occurred to Franz he was being a little paranoid, but he tried to shrug it off as caution.

* * *

The mountain range Duessel had mentioned was not too far away. The riders entered the foot hills in less then an hour, and then they slowed down. The mountains were closer to Grado Keep the their current campsite, but they would have a better position for defense in the hills. Franz kept his eyes open, and listened studiously for anything out of the ordinary since entering the foot hills.

The hills had been getting steadily steeper, and Franz wondered how much farther they could go. Duessel finally drew his horse to a stop, and dismounted. They had come to a large plateau that was sheltered on three sides by cliffs. Duessel walked out into the middle of the plateau, and looked around, gauging the potential campsite.

Franz dismounted as well, and was pleased to find that the ground was hard beneath his feet. It looked large enough to fit their camp on, if they doubled up a few tents, but the problem would be getting food, wood, and water. There had been several mountain streams, but wether they would be enough Franz wasn't sure. Being sheltered on three sides with only one side open for escape was another potential problem.

"There's a cave over there for another exit," Duessel said, motioned to one cliff. "I've stayed here before, but never for more then a month at a time." Franz nodded. He had thought Duessel would know of some place they could stay. Now they just had to move everyone here, which would be a challenge. It would be hard, if not impossible, to get the supply wagons through the mountains.

"We should head back now. This place should be far enough away from Grado Keep to avoid notice." Duessel mounted again, and started back towards camp. Franz swung into the saddle and wondered exactly why the man had needed to check the campsite he seemed to know so well. Maybe he had been afraid Grado forces would be there already.

Franz whipped around, his hand flying towards his sword. His mare twisted with him, and stood ready, quivering with anticipation. Duessel looked at him, and then the sparse foliage. Franz let go of his sword, and hefted his lance. The Javelin would be better then a sword.

"Show yourself," Duessel ordered, his voice like a thunderclap. Franz watched as the foliage shook, and a man appeared on a rock. He looked down at them, and Franz tightened his hold on his Javelin. The man didn't look like he was from Grado, but who could say for certain where he was from?

"Easy now, you don't want to kill me," The man cautioned, but he stood on his rock. His brown hair was held back from his face with an embroidered head band. "I've got some information I think you'd like to hear."

"And what information would that be?" Duessel asked, his voice still low and dangerous. Franz just waited, silently ready to kill or wound the man at the slightest indication.

The man smiled, and held his hands up. "I see you're not on for pleasantries, but humor me. You two are from the camp a few miles form the base of these mountains, aren't you?"

"And if we are?" Duessel shot back.

The man chuckled. He was obviously in his element, and knew more then he was letting on. "You're General Duessel, am I right? Well I'm Reanac, and, for the right price, I have some information you'll want to hear."

"And what is that?"

"Why, information about Prince Ephraim of Renais."

**A/N:Ooh! Thanks so much for all the reveiws! I'm so happy, and very inspired. Still, keep reveiwing, please, and if you haven't reveiwed please do! Thanks to-Araim, Silver Ferret, narugurlee13, Aemelina, TS, and Neko-chan! Who all reveiwed for the last Chapter! I love you all!**

**Note, last Chapter's first person bit was Duessel(sorry) and this time it's Innes! See you next update!**


	8. Expensive Attempts

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Semai no Kouseki, or any characters used thus far.**_

_He was gentle, but strong. He was tender, but harder then stone. He would smile, and I believed everything would be okay. He didn't care that I was a freak, or an outcast. He didn't care that I was weak, or that I always wanted to be with him. He just took me in, and held me close. He didn't care that I was strange._

_He told me stories of his sister, and how much she meant to him. He told me that he missed her most of all the people he had left back home. He also told me that his sister would like me to, and that we'd get along well. He told me she'd be glad to welcome me, just like he had. He said he thought of me like another sister, and that he would protect me._

_So why do I feel like I should be protecting him?_

_

* * *

_

Ephraim groaned softly, and looked at the wall opposite him. He was on the ground again. _"Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up!"_ His mind chanted, urging him to show no weakness. He wished it was that easy. He knew the soldiers that brought him his meals saw him failing. He knew they saw his pained features, and maybe they even heard his screams.

Ephraim had stopped trying to deny the fact he screamed. He knew he did, even though he never remembered actually doing it. Every time he came to his throat was raw, and he knew he had been screaming. Ephraim pulled himself to his feet, and leaned his hands on his knees. He gasped for breath, and waited until he was sure he wouldn't collapse before standing up.

The toll the last few days had taken on his body were amazing. The Demon King had visited him twice every day, sometimes more. Each time he was offered a chance to give in, and each time Ephraim had refused. Each time Ephraim had woken up hours later, sore, hoarse, and feeling like he had been physically beaten. He was losing feeling in his right fingers. The very tips held only half the sensitivity they once had, and that was alarming.

But why would the Demon King Destroy his body if he wanted to use it for his own purposes?

Ephraim staggered to the table, and flopped into the chair. He was exhausted, physically, and mentally he was restless. He knew he was going to reach his physical breaking point soon. His body simply couldn't take much more of the abuse it was suffering. There was too little time to heal between 'sessions'(as the Demon King called them), and there wasn't enough food either. He ate what was brought, chancing the fact it could be poisoned.

Ephraim was already ravenous. Healing, and fending off magical attacks took energy, and he was expending more energy then he had, he knew. His reserves would be depleted soon, and he would have a hard time physically resisting the Demon King.

Mentally he was ready.

He hoped he could hold out longer mentally then the Demon King thought, and he had stopped listening to the demon King. The sweet lies promising release, and salvation. the Demon King promised power, and a fair chance to try and beat him. After the Demon King came into his body he could try to overthrow the creature, and harness his power. Hadn't Lyon tried to do that?

Hadn't Lyon failed?

Ephraim sighed, and put his head in his hands. He could think all he wanted, and say he could resist. He could, but wether or not it was true he wasn't sure. He had no idea how long he could hold on, but he would fight to the death against the Demon King, if he could manage that. Slowly, day by day, his hopes of escaping alive were dying. He would be happy just to keep the Demon King at bay another day.

He was losing the battle by inches.

He was already at a disadvantage when it started, but slowly the Demon King was increasing his advantage, and there was nothing Ephraim could do. He had no reinforcements to call in, and no allies to fall back on. He was alone, utterly, and purely alone. He couldn't even hope for help from Lyon. He wasn't sure where Lyon stood anymore. He hoped-prayed- that Lyon would aid him someway. He wanted to believe that Lyon hadn't lied to him when he had said he would keep the Demon King from taking Ephraim's body. He wanted to believe that desperately, because if he was all alone in his fight against the Demon King, he would lose.

He _couldn't _lose though. Too much was at stake. There was no way he could give in without betraying every loyalty he ever had, and backing over everything he knew to be right. He would not do that-could not.

Ephraim stood, and staggered a step. He groaned, and forced himself to take another step. He would overcome the Demon King's silly illusions. He would not be weak enough to succumb to them. He wouldn't allow himself to. There was no way he could. He wasn't really nauseated, or so weak. His legs weren't really about to fold under him. He couldn't-

Ephraim braced his hands on his knees, and wretched. The contents of his stomach splattered weakly on the floor. His stomach muscles heaved again, and his hands tightened convulsively on his knees. He shook hard, and wiped his mouth with the back of a trembling hand. He looked up, almost expecting to see a gloating Demon Lord. Of course, no one was there.

He had to get out before he lost any more of his will. He had to get out before he couldn't fight the Demon King anymore, or before the monster's suggestions became anymore appealing. There had to be a way to get out. Bartering his deliverance was out of the question, it seemed. The Demon King had bigger plans then using him as a political bargaining tool.

Ephraim straightened, and took a few testing steps. He didn't fall, and he felt alright, mostly. He managed a walk faltering walk to the small door, and crouched by it. His plan was madness, crazy. There was no way it would succeed, and that was why it might. He was nearly beaten, exhausted physically. There was no way he could attempt an escape. There was no reason for the Demon King to even suspect he would.

Ephraim kept his crouch by the door, and began running through the lay-out of Grado Keep. He knew the place well, and he thought he knew where he was. He'd have to rely on speed, and he wasn't sure he had enough of that. Still, he would not roll over and take the Demon King's abuse, and scorn. He would fight back, and he would never bend.

* * *

Tana had nearly demanded to be present for the meeting when she heard what it was about. She had been helping Natasha and Moulder deal with Vanessa and Cormag, but she had handed that duty off to Ewan. Seth had only protested once, but, really, she had every right to attend the meeting. L'arachel would be there as well, and Tana was only a little under her in royal birth.

Now Tana stood in one of the last standing tents, her arms crossed, and her eyes on the 'informant'. The man's cool demands were outrageous. He wanted an enormous sum of money, and Tana wasn't even sure they could trust him. She was strongly tempted to smack the man with her lance, and she had a feeling that Seth might resort to threats very soon.

"I, L'arachel, maiden of Rausten, have arrived from caring for the wounded," L'arachel suddenly burst in, completely stunning, and over powering in her very presence. L'arachel was a person who should be taken in small sip, like a strong drink. Tana frowned a little, wishing she would act more serious, and dangerous. Maybe, even if no verbal threats were spoken, they could get the man to spill his words without money changing hands, or at least a smaller sum.

The effect L'arachel had on Rennac was astounding. The man jumped, and went stiff. His face drew tight, and paled, and then it changed to convay bitter disbelief. Tana watched as the man steadfastly looked over Seth's shoulder, and refused to turn around, and look a L'arachel.

"Rennac?" L'arachel took two great steps forward, and whirled Rennac around. "You're the one selling information of Prince Ephraim? For shame! A vessel of the house of Rausten should not stoop so low!" Tana stared, and traded glances between the two. Rennac looked just as shocked as Tana felt, and twice as enraged.

"'Vassal'? I only agreed to escort you, and that was for money! I am not a vassal to any house at all," Rennac stiffened further, and the color returned to his face. "Look here, I work only for money, and that's it. I'll only tell you what I know if you _pay_ me for it, and nothing else."

"Oh!" L'arachel gasped, and pressed a delicate hand over her mouth. "And I thought you were more noble then that, for shame Rennac! Money has no real value when everything is said and done! I can not believe you would choose something so fleeting!"

"Fleeting or no it's what I want, and it's what I'll get. If you want to know what's happening to Prince Ephraim," Rennac snapped defensively. Tana tightened her grip on her lance, and really wished she could knock the man around a little. She was worried about Ephraim-they _all_ were!-, and he was going on about payment!

L'arachel sniffed. "Very well, may the Goddess have mercy on your soul when judgement comes," She sounded supremely disappointed. She took something from a bag at her hip, and held it out. "Here, and there will be more if you continue to supply reliable information about Prince Ephraim."

Rennac took the offered gem, and examined it carefully. He took his time, as if the threat didn't scare him. He secreted the gem away, and then turned to Seth. "I'll tell you everything I know, and everything I've heard about Prince Ephraim, and I'll continued to gather information for it until the risk is too great."

Seth nodded. "You're of no use dead," he said flatly, but he was anxious to know what the man had learned.

"Right," Rennac glanced around the room once, and then began. "Prince Ephraim is alive-I've seen him myself only yesterday, but I wouldn't say he's well."

"Why is Grado keeping him?" Duessel asked, his face iron.

"Not as a cheap bargaining tool, that's for sure. Exactly why Ephraim is being held I'm not sure, but something out of the normal is going on. Especially after," Rennac paused, and looked at Seth. "after what happened yesterday."

* * *

Ephraim crouched by the door. His knees screamed for him to sit down, and give them a rest. His stomach rolled inside him, and his every joint burned. He would fall over when he tried to stand, and his plan would be a waste. He couldn't possible even stand after crouching for so long with his body the way it was.

Ephraim knew he wasn't that weak. He knew he could, and had, operate under conditions worse then this. He knew his mind was lying, and that he had to rely on what he'd known before, not on what he knew now. Now he was living an illusion, and if he trusted it he would die. He had to get out, and escape. He knew it would only be so long before he gave in. He knew he couldn't possible fight forever. He was already wearing down, and soon he would be unable to distinguish what was real, and what wasn't, that was why he had to get out.

Ephraim listened intently, and finally heard footsteps coming up the hall. He eased himself back from the door a little, and bounced once on the balls of his feet. Imagined pain shot through his legs, and he bounced agin, wriggling his toes to restore blood flow, and tensing for his moment to move. He had to be ready. He only had one chance.

It was easy to achieve the tense, and highly aware state he had during battle. His mind insisted pained burned through him, and that soon he would be screaming, and on his knees. Ephraim leaned forward, and delicately balanced the tips of his fingers on the floor.

The footsteps were almost to the door now.

Ephraim stopped all movement, and strained to hear what was happening. The lock was being turned, the knob was rattling. The door was opening. Ephraim forced himself to breath softly as two soldiers walked into the room, and then he struck. He was around the door in an instant, and slamming his elbow into the last guards face. He grabbed the key form the man's hand, and rammed it into the lock as the door slammed closed. The key turned, and Ephraim was running down a flight of stairs.

Adrenaline raced through him, aiding his flight, and heightening his senses almost painfully. He already knew the way he should have to go to get out. He needed to go east, and that should take him out. He darted down the next turn, and came face to face with a servant.

Instinct and training took over the instant he saw her stunned face. He slammed his fist into the servant's head, and she dropped bonelessly. Ephraim caught her quickly, and set her down. He glanced down the hall, and found it clear. He hurried on again, this time slower.

Some one would find the servant's body, or the soldiers soon. He had to hurry.

Ephraim jogged down the hall, and took his next turn carefully. He heard an alarmed noise ring through the hall. Someone had found the servant. Ephraim's heart jumped, and he burst into a run again, trying to think of a way he could still escape. He dashed madly past a few servants. The servants stared, but none and any move to stop him. How could they?

He knew a place he could get out, and in the woods around Grado Keep he could hide. He just had to get that far. Ephraim rounded another corner widely, and something slammed into his stomach. he fell down a flight of stairs, and rolled quickly to his feet. Something hit his side hard, and he fell again. Pain, real pain, spread across him, and he could feel the blood running from the wound.

Ephraim pushed himself up again, and ran. It didn't matter if some one was following him, he had to our run them. That was all he had to do. Run.

Something grabbed him, and the butt of a spear was slammed into his injured side. Ephraim went down with a gasp, and he couldn't roll away. The spear butt was ground into his wound with merciless force, and Ephraim vision pulsed white. He twisted, trying to get away, and lashed out. his bare hand hit armor, causing more pain, and splitting his knuckles.

"Be still, I don't want to hurt you," A voice said. Ephraim looked up, but he couldn't see his captor. A group of servants watched, and Ephraim thought he recognized one of them. Something hard and heavy crashed into the back of his head, and his vision snapped into black as his forehead cracked into the stone floor.

* * *

"Oh, Ephraim," There was nothing more for Tana to say. She looked near tears. L'arachel was standing by her, and looked just as distraught as Tana.

Rennac didn't look at either of them. "They just tossed him over one man's shoulder, and carried him back. He did better then any man should have after a week of imprisonment, actually. He knew which way to go, and if he had had a few more minutes he might have escaped."

Seth sat in silence. Rennac's claims were unbelievable, but, admittedly, the man was risking a lot by telling them this, and L'arachel seemed to trust his words. Seth looked at Rennac, hoping he looked more intimidating then he felt. "Go, Franz will escort you from our camp." Rennac bowed the them all, which might have been a mocking gesture, and left.

"If Prince Ephraim was desperate enough to attempt an escape when he was clearly physically uncapable he must be getting desperate," Duessel said, his voice almost like distant thunder. Seth nodded in agreement. His head was beginning to hurt again, but the head-ache had been almost constant since Ephraim had been captured.

"Ephraim won't give in, he's stronger then that,' Tana said, gaining an almost challenging look in her eyes. "He won't let the demon King have his body-never."

"He can only last so long," Seth admitted, feeling a pang somewhere deep inside him. "Prince Ephraim is only human, and the Demon King..."

"We'll rescue him before then," Tana protested.

"Launch on attack on Grado Keep?" If Duessel had any more energy the words would have been incredulous.

"Yes, if that's what it takes to get Ephraim back, then yes!" Tana grabbed up her lance, and fixed both Generals with a hard glare. For a moment Seth thought she might throw her lance at him. "Eirika would want us to, and she wouldn't back down. If it were any of us in there Ephraim would do the same thing." Spots of color had bloomed on her cheeks, and she was close to tears now.

"We're doing everything we can, but if we move wrong Prince Ephraim could end up dead." Seth reasoned, though part of him agreed fully with Tana.

"They wont- they can't! We're just too slow" Tana blinked furiously, and whirled around. "I-I have to see about Vanessa."

"I'll come with you," L'arachel made an unusually quick exit after Tana, and Seth sighed. He allowed himself to pinch the bridge of his nose, and look as tired as he felt. He stood slump shouldered for a little while, his eyes closed.

Someone knocked against the tent's canvas, and Kyle's voice came though distorted. Seth sighed very softly, and stood straight again. He stepped forward, using each moment to gather his last remaining confidence around him, and pushed back the flap of the tent. His duties were never really done, and no one needed to know how discouraged he was. People would know soon enough what was happening to Ephraim, and he hoped it wouldn't push some over the edge, and into something rash and stupid.

"Sir, Cormag is ready to give his report," Kyle said, snapping off a quick salute. The man had lost weight since Ephraim's capture, and he looked older then he had before Ephraim's capture to. It was the drawn nature of his face that made the change in the cavaleir's face.

Seth nodded. "All right, Duessel, Cormag's report is ready."

The other General was already moving for the tent entrance, his face stern. "Then let us not keep him waiting."

Seth followed Duessel out, and wished he could just go to bed. He was exhausted. Though, even if he could fall into bed at that moment, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Sleep had been very elusive lately, and Seth doubted any amount of exhaustion would help that.

* * *

**A/N: Whoo, look at that, only a week between chapters! I can, very seriously, say it was due to all the wonderful people who reveiwed! The beginning segment was Myrrh.**

**Thank you for pointing out my spelling mistakes! **

**Thanks to all the people who reveiwed this chapter: Araim, radmneko, narugurlee13, Aemelina, Nairal Narbeleth, Phantom Kensai, ShadowChocobo**

**Jaa ne!**


	9. Needy Friend

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Semai no Kouseki, just the 'plot' of this story._

_He was ready the moment I saw him-his lust for power, his strength. He would be hard to convince, but he would give in, whether by choice or not didn't matter. He was strong, much stronger then my current host, and he could act openly. His body wouldn't quiver in fear at the thought of battle, and his mind would be faster._

_He would have battle instincts, and know what he was to do in the heat of battle. I was more interested in the muscle memory, that the body would retain, but not much else. His soul would disappear under my hold, and he would succumb completely to my will, and his soul would die. Once his soul was gone his body would be mine to control._

_

* * *

_

Lyon sat, and looked at his reflection. It almost looked the same, except for the hollows in his cheeks, and his blind eye, but somehow it was different. He could feel the demon King writhing beneath his skin, and feel the power flow through him. He knew the Demon King was resting now, preparing for another attack on Ephraim.

Lyon hadn't been very helpful to Ephraim yet. He hadn't been able to hold the Demon King back as much as he used to. The Demon King seemed to be growing stronger, and that was troubling. Lyon looked away from the mirror, and to the animated corpse of his father. It sat motionless, eyes staring blankly, and unblinking. Maybe Lyon was getting weaker.

Weeks since releasing the Demon King Lyon had found it harder to overcome the monster. It had been easy, at first, to nearly force the Demon King completely under his control. Everything had been fine then, but as the Demon King gained power it had been harder. Lyon had pushed away anyone who might be used as a weakness, but his father had been too much.

It was too tempting to animate the empty body, and have a shield to hide behind. It was amazing when the body moved, jerking to life, and easily walking across the room. Lyon found he could even project thoughts into the puppet, and it would move, or even talk. Without Lyon telling it what to do, however, it was just an empty shell, not even fit to be called human. It cared for nothing, and did nothing on its own.

_Stupid child, I told you, I told you..._ The voice faded off into deep chuckles that shook Lyon with revulsion.

"Go away, you've done enough damage here today," Lyon said, standing up hesitantly. He really did feel weak. He was going to fall, he should just sit back down and-

"Stop," Lyon growled. He forced the illusion out of his mind, and broke it quickly. That was the one thing he was good at, breaking illusions the Demon King set over his mind. It was easy to find them, and twist the strands of magic out of usefulness.

_The sweet little Prince has so much bark, but not much bite. Imagine, leaving your best friend to die, and not doing a thing to help him_. The Demon King laughed again, and Lyon felt his chest jerk with each laugh. Lyon gritted his teeth, and made himself walk across the room. He looked at his father, and sighed.

"Father, it is time to go and talk to the Generals," Lyon prompted.

_Why do you bother? He'll never move unless you tell him. He's dead, and only here because you animated his filthy corpse. Your father's soul must be writhing in disgust, what a worthless son he had. How weak-_

Shut up!" Lyon shouted, swinging around, but knowing he couldn't see the Demon King. He could only hear him, and feel him.

_Ooh, why? Does it hurt you to know the truth? You don't like it, do you, but that's because you're weak. That's why all this is happening, that's why!_ The Demon King's cackling laugh hurt as it tore through Lyon's senses. Lyon was on his knees, his head in his hands. _That's why you can't defeat me, and that's why you have to listen to Ephraim of Renais scream! That's why your people suffer!_

"S-stop it!" Lyon ground out, and tried to force the Demon King back. It was like grappling with an eel-an electric eel. Lyon pulled on what strength he had, and slammed the demon King, back. He could still hear the chuckling laughter, but it was growing fainter. Someone was knocking on the door.

Lyon struggled to his feet, and wiped the blood from his mouth. He tried to stand up right, but his stomach hurt too much to allow it. The muscles were terribly sore from coughing, retching, and other things of that nature. Lyon paused, and took a few deep breaths before opening one of the large doors. A soldier stood at attention his face stern, and apprehensive.

"My lord, Prince Ephraim attempted to escape," The soldier report. "We apprehended him, and returned him to his place of confinement."

Lyon stared dumbly at the man. Ephraim had tried to escape? Rage, thick, dark, and sickening rage, boiled inside him, and Lyon gasped slightly. _Tried to escape? I must have been to lenient. I won't be again. Stupid wre-_

"Thank you for the report," Lyon managed. He pushed past the soldier, and slammed the doors behind him. The soldier bowed, and stepped back. Lyon walked past the man, and down the hall. His head was hurting, and he could feel the Demon King clawing for control. He couldn't let the Demon King out, though. If the Demon King got loose now Ephraim would have no chance at all to hold out.

Lyon reached the double doors that lead to Ephraim's prison, and pressed his hand to them. The magical lock gave way under his touch, and he hastily unlocked the physical one with the key he kept strung around his neck. Lyon pushed the doors open, and took to hurried steps in before closing them behind him. He turned around, and saw Ephraim, a prone, bleeding pile on the bed.

The Demon King surged forward, trying to knock Lyon from control. Lyon staggered, and coughed. He groaned, and clutched his head. He felt as if his body was trying to tear itself apart from the inside. He knew that it was impossible, but it hurt more then Lyon thought anything could. He almost screamed, but he held it back. He couldn't let the Demon King take over, not right now. If he did Ephraim would be lost.

* * *

Natasha watched Vanessa carefully, and wished the woman had consented to riding in a wagon. Her leg had been broken very severely, and she should be resting, not riding. The horse beneath Natasha jumped, and the healer unconsciously clutched the body in front of her. She was not a good rider, and had never spent much time near horses.

"Whoah, steady girl-I'm sorry Sister Natasha, she's just a little antsy today," Forde smiled back at the cleric. "Just hold on and you won't fall."

"He's right, Forde's mare never lets anyone fall off her," Franz intoned. Vanessa was riding behind him, her face was white, and she hissed through her teeth when her leg bumped against something.

"Vanessa, are you sure you're all right?" Natasha asked. "You can ride in one of the wagons."

Vanessa shook her head. 'No, I'm fine. It's just a little pain. It's nothing I can't handle." She winced, and smiled a little. "I'll be fine."

"There's no need to push yourself, you know," Franz said. "If you're hurt badly you should allow yourself to rest and heal."

"Yes, Franz, you would have made a better healer then knight," Forde teased. Franz blushed, and muttered something that made Forde and Vanessa laugh.

"Laughter? Can it be someone has actually managed to shake off some gloom?" Joshua asked, trotting up between the two horses. "Aah, it is Sister Natasha, Lady Vanessa, and the knightly brothers!"

"I bid you good morning, Joshua, but you're not getting any of your money back," Forde laughed. "It's as good as spent."

"I'll win it back next time." Joshua waved a hand airily, and then looked to Franz. "So, Sir Franz, what is the condition of our future campsite?"

"Well, defensively it's very good-"

"No, no," Joshua shook his head. "Living wise. I have no doubt it's good for war purposes, but what about for ordinary life?"

"It's small, so we'll have to double up some tents, at least, and we'll have to walk farther for water," Franz admitted.

Forde sighed. "And we're already stuffed into tent like sardines. There's no way we can double tents up without doubling up people in bedrolls."

"Then you should pray for someone who doesn't snore, or kick," Joshua intoned sagely, before laughing.

"Don't worry, Sir Forde, I'm sure our arrangements won't be cramped for very long," Natasha assured. "We'll be on the march again soon, I expect." She hoped she had said the right thing. Forde tensed a little, but she felt, and heard him laugh.

"That's right, and we'll be very busy anyway, so you probably won't care who you're sharing a bed roll with," Vanessa added. Forde and Franz shared knowing looks, and they both burst into subdued laughter.

"Don't worry, after sleeping three to a bedroll that one disaster of a scouting mission this will be easy," Forde chuckled, and sighed. "I'll always have fond memories of _that_ trip. It was the first time Franz and I ever worked together in the service of Renais." Natasha couldn't miss the note of sorrow that fell when Forde mentioned Renais. She imagined it was just as hard as watching Grado be torn apart. Possibly it was harder since it had been his duty to protect Renais from falling.

"I'd forget it, if I could," Franz said, though he was smiling. "I've never been through such a thunderstorm since!"

Forde burst into a new bout of laughter. "Ah, me, how rude of us, we've excluded the rest of our companions." Natasha smiled, and wished they would keep talking. It had been a long time since she'd seen either of them smile, and any smiles were rare now. She was a firm believer in laughter as a medicine, and the camp certainly could use more of it.

* * *

Ephraim was swimming back to awareness. He was on a bed. That was surprising. He usually woke up on the floor. His side hurt. The way it hurt was different from the normal hurt though. It was a deep, dull ache with momentary sharp stabs of pain when he breathed. His tunic was crusted to his skin, and he could feel the blood crusted on his forehead.

His escape plan, the second capture, the familiar man.

Ephraim opened his eyes, and saw a ceiling. He sat still, trying to check for more injuries. His side and his head seemed to be the only ones. He would be bruised, most definitely; but he shouldn't have anymore serious things then that. The real question was whether he should move or not. Of course, part of his mind screamed for him to move, and check for danger, and another part was adamant he keep still. He really was hurt this time.

He finally decided to move. He sat up very carefully, trying not to move his side. He could feel his tunic peel away from the wound. He paused, breathing carefully, and hoping he wouldn't open the wound again. It didn't feel as bad as he had feared. It was probably just painful, and not serious. His head throbbed, and he felt oddly disconnected-a concussion maybe.

Ephraim hissed through his teeth, and awkwardly sat up. The last thing he needed was a head injury to mess with his thinking more. His coordination was going to suffer as well. His stomach pleaded it was hungry, and Ephraim was beginning to believe it. He wondered how long he had been out, and if there was any food left for him. Ephraim looked up, and froze.

The fire had been stoked, and the room was warmer then Ephraim ever remembered it being. There hadn't been a fire in the hearth for a few days now, but now a fire crackled happily. The fire wasn't what captured Ephraim's attention. Curled in the room's only chair was a familiar figure, but a now almost feared one. The face was tucked into knees, and Lyon looked almost innocent. He almost looked like the Lyon Ephraim remembered.

Ephraim sat tense, waiting for Lyon to move, or awake. The demon king would be furious with his attempt to escape, he knew that. He would receive a worse 'session' then usual from the monster, and then be left in pain, and confusion. Ephraim waited, and dared the creature sitting before him to wake up.

Lyon stirred, and the head shifted. A very soft eye studied Ephraim in a hazed way that suggested sleep. There was no malice and no anger- just soft confusion and a touch of blankness. Ephraim's heart jumped in relief when he realized it wasn't the Demon King. He was surprised how the tension left his body. He managed to retain a little, and kept eye contact with Lyon. The Demon King could still appear.

"So, you're up," Lyon said. It was hard to hear him.

"What are you doing here?" Ephraim asked. He was surprised by how thick, and scratchy his voice sounded.

"Because you tried to escape, and I thought," Lyon paused, and a great shudder went through him. "I wanted to know how you were."

"Then he's not here?" It was pitiful how desperate Ephraim sounded. He wanted to grab the words back as soon as he said them.

"No, not right now, not yet," Lyon answered. "He's angry, but he can't get out right now." Lyon seemed to be focusing on something other then Ephraim. "He wants to come out, and he wants to hurt you. He wants very badly to hurt you."

Ephraim watched Lyon warily. "You can hold him back?" It was painful to really see how little trust he had in Lyon now. Part of Ephraim ached to trust his old friend, but Ephraim knew he couldn't. It was a very sad reality.

"Sometimes, not often. I can't hold him back much anymore," Lyon admitted, his gaze still far away, and his voice tired. "He's getting stronger, or I'm getting weaker. I think I'm getting weaker." Lyon looked at Ephraim, and the almost scared looking Lyon's eye was startling. Lyon looked almost childish curled up in the chair, his chin tucked down almost to his knees.

"You're not weak," Ephraim said. How many times had he said that to Lyon? Not enough, it appeared. Lyon smiled wanly, and seemed ready to reply. He suddenly went stiff, and his eyes widened.

"No, no.." Lyon gasped, and his body jerked. "No! You can't come out!" Lyon's body jerked again, and Ephraim started to his feet in alarm. Pain cracked through his side, and spread quickly around the wound. His vision grayed then jerked back to normal. He watched as Lyon curled tightly around his knees his body shaking, and soft words of protest escaping his mouth.

Lyon's feet hit the floor, and he doubled over his knees, his hands clutching his head. "Get out, get out! Go away!" Lyon's body was wracked with hard tremors that seemed to be growing more violent each second. They were growing more violent, Ephraim was sure of it. The Demon King was trying to take over, and he probably would.

Lyon let out a strangled scream, and lurched to his feet. Ephraim jumped back, and gasped as a new burst of pain came from his side. Lyon made an odd noise, most likely a held back scream, and the noise that followed was almost a sob. It was oddly terrifying to see Lyon hunched over, his head grasped in his hands, and his breath coming in mad gasps.

Part of Ephraim knew, without a doubt, that Demon King was trying to get out, and get to him. Ephraim wanted to run-away, and escape from the demon that threatened to emerge in front of him. He was surprised revolting the thought was. It seemed deceptive, and easy to run. Why should it?"

Lyon groaned, and his hands clenched in his hair. "Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away..." The words were repeated over and over. Ephraim finally moved. His side protested, sending sharp stabs of pain that made him want to sit back down. He didn't. He stood by Lyon for a moment, unsure of what he had planned to do. What could he do? How could he help keep the Demon King from breaking through.

Ephraim touched Lyon's shoulder, surprised instantly at the thinness of it. Even through the layers of clothing he could feel bone. He could also feel the great shudders that shook Lyon. Ephraim's right arm twinged. He stood still, watching Lyon, hoping, praying Lyon would succeed, and wishing he could help him. Now, at least for a moment, he and Lyon were fighting the same battle, and hoping for the same outcome.

It was refreshing to know he wasn't fighting against his best friend for once. It was painful, heart wrenching, to watch Lyon suffer, and to not be able to stop it. It went against something that seemed to be a core right. It seemed wrong to let his friend suffer. Horribly wrong.

"Just hold him back a little longer Lyon, just a little longer," Ephraim whispered, feeling utterly helpless, and ridiculous. "Please, hold him back."

**A/N: Bleah- a long wait for a chapter of a bunch of nothing. Oh well, you can't write everything well. I promise the next update won't take so long, and that things will move forward better. This chapter focused a lot more on Lyon. Blah... Oh, and the first bit was the Demon King...**

**Thank you so much to all the reviewers! I love you all very much, and please keep reviewing!-If you're one of the people who isn't reviewing then smae on you!-**

**Jaa ne.**


	10. Punish Tears

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Semai no Kouseki.**

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_Eirika was always strong. She was much stronger then me, in spirit and in fighting. She, even though I had the advantage, could always beat me. She would laugh and say it was because she always sparred with Ephraim, who also used a lance. She was used to having a disadvantage, both in physical strength and weapon reach. She always told me I shouldn't be afraid just because I was at a disadvantage, but that I should never overestimate my abilities._

_Eirika had a hard core that made her who she was. She spent much of her life with her brother, and with Lyon. She was the only girl in their group, and was constantly trying to keep up with them. She managed and she never got discouraged. She knew that she was just as good as Ephraim or Lyon, and that she could keep up. She also recognized the things they excelled in, like magic, or battle tactics._

_She was always my friend and my role model all in one._

_

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_

The wind was wild, and bitterly cold. It blew Eirika's breath back into her throat, and made her eyes sting. She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. She was glad there had been no snow flurries yet; it was hard enough to see without flecks of white swirling every where. She tapped the horse into a jog, and looked over her shoulder. Saleh and Innes were following closely.

"Eirika," Innes called, urging his horse abreast with hers. "Are you sure this is the way to go? We have no idea where the camp will be."

"Trust me, it will be near Grado Keep, and I know a place that's perfect for a defensive position near there. If they found it that's where they'll be."

"You don't even know if they'll have found it, and you still want to go this way?" Innes looked at her, a mix of disdain, and, somehow, pride.

"Yes, something tells me they'll be there, everyone will be." Eirika smiled, knowing it was a challenging smile. It was the smile she used to pull her brother into challenges, or sparring matches. Her heart ached for twin, and she want to cry. She hadn't cried yet, but she wanted to. She wanted to curl up and die, but she had to stay strong, and lead. She had to stay strong, and bring her brother home.

"You and Ephraim both-" Innes stopped. "What is that?" Eirika jerked he head up, and a shadow crashed down towards them. Innes already had an arrow ready, and was aiming.

"Hold on, you don't know what it is!" Eirika protested, grabbing Innes arm. A horrid scream rose above the howling wind, and Eirika's horse reared. The horse was suddenly torn form under Eirika, and she dropped harshly to the ground, and rolled. She came up on her feet, her sword drawn, and held defensively before her.

She heard an arrow fly from a bowstring, and heard the sick sound of an arrow hitting home. Another inhuman sound made her wince, and something to her left growled. She whipped around in time to see the great monster before its teeth snapped inches from her arm. Eirika brought the hilt of her sword down on the creature's head as hard as she could, and jumped back. The great cat demon stumbled, and Eirika moved forward again, stabbing her sword into the creature's chest.

The monster roared, and jerked back, knocking Eirika off balance. She stumbled, and saw the great mouth open wide, and her heart clenched. She was going to die. The air crackled, and her vision whited out. The smell of burning flesh and hair was suddenly overpowering. Eirika fell, her face scrapped against a rock, and she sat up, dazed.

"Princess Eirika!" Saleh was kneeling beside her. "Are you unharmed?"

"Mo-mostly, Eirika managed. She couldn't see well. Everything was splotched, and bleached of color. "What was that?"

"Monsters," Innes grumbled in disgust. 'I'm afraid you're horse is dead Eirika, and you would be to, if it weren't for Saleh's quick thinking."

'I'm afraid I've temporarily hampered her sight," Saleh admitted. "Her pupils are far too wide for this light."

"I'll be fine soon." Eirika blinked, and shaded her abused eyes. "Are we out of immediate danger?"

"We can hope we are," Innes still had his bow out and strung. "We should move quickly though, I don't like the idea of staying near here for very long. Monsters rarely travel in such small groups. The main party will be finding us soon."

"Yes, or course," Eirika agreed. She heaved herself to her feet, and Innes grabbed her arm. She winced, and looked carefully at him. There was no pity, and very little concern. The last thing she needed was Innes's concern.

Innes helped her a few steps, and then released her arm. "Saleh's beast won't carry two people; you'll have to ride double with me."

It was almost insulting to be ordered so easily, and if it hadn't been true then Eirika would have insisted on riding with Saleh. Still she allowed herself to be helped on Innes tall stallion, and watched as Saleh mounted his dumpy little gelding. They started off again at a quick trot. It was immensely uncomfortable behind the saddle, but Eirika knew it was better not to complain. She shut her eyes, which made them ache less, and leaned her head against Innes back to steady herself.

"Why do you think the monster's attacked us when they were outnumbered?" Eirika opened her eyes, and looked back at Saleh. "You've said on many occasions that the monsters only attack when the odds are in their favor, or the group is large enough."

"The attack does go completely against their nature," Saleh agreed. "I have no idea what would drive them to do something like this.

"Driven them?" Innes looked back with a look that was almost a sneer. ""Why do these creatures have to have something driving them?"

"Because, even normal creatures know when they are outnumbered by something, and monsters are smarter then normal creatures. That's why they're monsters-they are smarter and stronger then what is normal," Saleh explained. "If only two attacked us then they were obviously more afraid of something else then death."

"What would they fear more then death?" Eirika asked, but she didn't expect an answer. She didn't think she wanted to get an answer. "Innes, go left." Innes grunted, and turned his horse left. Eirika closed her eyes again briefly, and tried to relax a little. Her mind hummed with fear, apprehension, and anxiety. She was very worried about her brother. Each time she thought about him it brought an ache into her that hurt worse then any wound.

She could hear the horse's feet hitting dully beneath the winds roar. Her ears were numb from the cold, and her legs ached from a cold stiff day in the saddle. She could feel Innes heart beating too fast for normal, and realized he was afraid. His back was tense, and one hand hovered near his quiver. His bow was in easy reach as well.

"Princess Eirika, how is your sight?" Saleh asked after a while. Eirika blinked, and looked around.

"Better, but it will be a while yet before it returns completely to normal," Eirika admitted. She shifted her arms around Innes, and tried to see over his shoulder. "We should be getting close."

"Hold traveler! State your name and business, or we'll put you gull of arrows!" A voice boomed out. Innes jerked his horse to a stop, and grabbed an arrow.

"None of that!" The voice shouted. It echoed off rocks, and distorted the actually voice. "Now, state your name and business!" Eirika could feel Innes stiffen, and knew he was about to do something stupid. She could see it, and she knew Innes too well.

She swung off the horse, and held up her hands. "We are simple travel-"

"Of course, now tell us who you really are or-"

"You idiot! Don't you know who that is!"

"Ow! No! Should I?"

Saleh sighed, and smiled the barest bit. "Ewan, is that you?"

"Master Saleh!" A read-headed child suddenly popped up from behind a boulder, and dashed over to the three travelers. "Master Saleh! What are you doing here?"

"Traveling," Saleh answered simply. "My companions are Princess Eirika of Renias, and Lord Innes of Frelia."

"Princess Eirika?" Ewan squeaked. He looked at Eirika with wide eyes, and bowed very quickly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Princess Eirika."

"Ewan, what are you doing here in the middle of Grado?" Saleh asked.

"I'm with Prince Ephraim's army!" Ewan piped.

"Here, Ewan, who is this?" A blond girl asked. She scrambled over stood in front of the three travelers frowning.

"Oh, and this is Amelai! Amelia this is Master Saleh, she's Princess Eirika, and he's Lord Innes." Amelia blushed, and quickly bowed.

"I-I'm sorry, we were supposed to scare away anyone who came this way if we could," The girl stuttered.

"It's all right," Eirika couldn't hold back her smile. The camp was close by, and that meant her hunch had been right. "Can you leave your posts to take us to camp, or should you just give us directions?"

"Uuum," Ewan frowned. "I'm not sure we should..."

A man hopped over the large rock the two children had been hiding behind. "It's all right, I'll lead them in." Joshua grinned, and tipped his hat to Eirika. "My Lady Renais, pleased to see you again."

"I feel the same Joshua," Eirika dipped her head a little. "Now, can you take us to camp?"

"Of course," Joshua hopped of a rock, and patted Ewan on the head. "Good job kiddo." Ewan glared murderously at him. Eirka brushed off Innes offer to held her back on his horse, and walked beside Joshua. Her heart had taken up a frenzied beat that made her hands shake, and she didn't want anyone to know her stomach was a cold knot.

Seth had been surprised to see her, that much was obvious, and he had also been relieved. Eirika had always been able to read Seth better then anyone else. She knew his mannerisms and tones well. She smiled at him while he bowed, and looked around the small tent. Seth, Duessel, L'arachel, Innes, Saleh, and Tana were all gathered in the tent, each one waiting. Formalities were done, and now Eirika voice her question.

"What do you know about Ephraim?" The question brought a sharp silence over the room, and Tana looked away quickly. Eirika felt dread rising in her throat, and looked at them sternly. She couldn't let them now she was afraid, and that all she wanted to do was sit down and cry. Still, she wasn't ready for the truth.

It was Duessel who finally told her, his voice impassive, and his face set hard against emotion. The emotionless account made her stomach clench, and her heart clench. She listened silently to the account of her brother's capture, and the intent of the capture. She heard of eth informant and the escape attempt in dry facts, giving away none of the pain Ephraim must have felt. It was almost too much to bear.

Finally Duessel stopped. "That's all we know." Eirika nodded numbly, and wished she could stop the ache inside her. She could only imagine what Ephraim was feeling. Lyon-dear, sweet, innocent Lyon, friend of her heart, had unleashed the Demon King of legend, and captured his best friend. Eirika realized she was gripping her sword handle, and that her fingers ached from the force of her grip.

She looked up the ring of faces, and realized she had to say something. "I thank you, for your concern, and loyalty. Ephraim-he's stronger then any of us know, and he'll be fine until we can reach him."

"Of course he will," L'arachel agreed loudly, and laughed. "There's no doubt of that, Prince Ephraim is very strong."

"When is your informant supposed to bring his next report?" Innes asked sharply.

"Tomorrow morning, or some times around then. He's very sporadic about time. He says it's hard to get away from the Keep unnoticed," Duessel answered, and his tone said be believed the man on that point.

"Have you considered the fact he could be playing both sides?" Innes asked, his voice cold, and calculating.

"Yes, it's very possible, but right now we're not in any position to bargain," Seth said. He sounded old, and tired. "We're grasping at straws, and we can't let go of one just because it may be false."

"It sounds very outrageous to believe it, even if we are 'desperate'." Innes pointed out, his face still set stubbornly.

"It makes more sense then what's been happening." Eirika responded almost bitterly. It made more sense then Grado lashing out blindly at Renais, or the random monster attacks. Wouldn't the Demon King know perfectly well how to control Monsters? She had shoved everything away from her, trying to lessen the growing pain in her heart. Her brother's capture, Lyon's betrayal-two people she had loved at trusted were now, now...

"Look at us, blathering on when you've just arrived from a long, hard trip," Tana bounced forward suddenly, and caught Eirika's arm. "I'm sure you're starving, and you look almost dead on your feet." Tana smiled widely, brining a sudden odd cheer to the room. "C'mon, you can stay in my tent with Myrrh and L'arachel."

Eirika smiled back, and placed her hand over Tana's. "I am hungry," She admitted. She looked around the group, and managed her own, almost real smile. "I beg leave of this council."

"You need not beg anything of anyone here," Seth answered properly, touching his hand to his heart and bowing. Eirika bowed back, and then, with a wave to be brother, Tana pulled Eirika from the tent, and then hugged her tight.

"Ooh, It's so good to see you again. Everyone was worried about you," Tana told her friend, beaming still. "I can't tell you how much better I feel with you here."

"I'm glad." Eirika replied. In truth she felt broken and shattered, and Tana's smile seemed out of place.

* * *

Eirika had finished the meal-sprout soup, and a slab of meat-, and was now sitting in silence, her head bent, and her eyes stinging. Tana had dropped of into silence as well after telling Eirika everything that had happened to the small camp since the Pegasus rider arrived. The camp was quiet now, but Eirika could here a few people exchanging greetings as they switched watches, or went about their late business.

There was a dull knock against the canvas. Eirika looked up, and found she could just make out two tall shadows. Eirika set her tray of food aside, and stood. Tana, however, just called 'Come in', and the tent flap pushed over. Kyle and Forde walked in, each wearing a grim expression. The two dropped into deep bows, and Eirka stared silently.

She knew, of course, Forde and Kyle had been with her brother when he had been captured. She knew that, as knights, they had failed in their duty to keep Ephraim safe, and they were seeking repentance, and punishment. She waited, feeling her chest grow tight as she looked at their bowed heads.

"Princess Eirika, we were with your brother the night he was captured, and we did not stop it," Kyle said woodenly, his voice resolved and muffled. "We are here to accept punishment for our actions." Forde's head dipped lower, and Eirika saw a slight quiver in his shoulders. Her heart clenched, and she blinked back tears.

"There's nothing I could do to punish you that would come close to what you two have put yourselves through since my brother's capture, I'm sure," Eirika took a quick breath, and stood up. "There is no blame. Nothing could have stopped this from happening, and no amount of blame throwing will make Ephraim safe among us."

The two remained bowed, each resolute in their decisions. Each stupidly refusing to believe her words, she knew, and blaming themselves. "Please stand up," It took a moment, but the two did stand, and Eirika was surprised. She had expected to see the serious and resolved face on Kyle, but not on Forde. Forde was never serious and never let anything keep him down.

Eirika realized she couldn't just tell them to go away, and dismiss the issue. She had, in some way, to find some punishment for them. It would do nothing to help her brother, but it would help them. She, certainly, wouldn't have them flogged, or anything like that, but she had to do _something_. Honor demanded it.

"We'll discuss the manner of your punishment after I've had a time to properly think on it," Eirika managed, giving them each level looks. "I'm sure you both have duties to attend to, so I will dismiss you."

"Thank you, Princess," Forde said, almost too softly to be heard. They both bowed, and left. Eirka watched until the tent flap closed behind them, and then sat back down hard. She was tired, worried, and more afraid then she had ever been in her life. Her heart ached for her brother, her father, and her home.

"Oh Eirika," Tana breathed, and dropped down beside her friend. Eirika smiled, and buried her face in her hands. She let everything pour out. Her worried splashed down her face, and her fears came out in soft sobs that made her shake. Tana dropped her arms around Eirika's shoulders, and Eirika leaned against her. She felt weak, and small. How could she ever save her brother from something so large? How could she even begin to start?

"Don't worry, we'll see Ephraim again…" Tana murmured. "You're here now, so we'll see him."

**A/N:Whoo! Another chapter! Okay, it's naptime right? Ha, not, still got work to do. Okay, First part was-obviously- Tana, and yeah for crying women. Eirika is experiencing serious depression, and emotional stress, but she'll be better after she kills some things very dead.**

**Thanks to: Phantom Kensai, Nariel Narbeleth, randmneko, narugurlee13, Kiries, and Silver Ferret- My wonderful reviewers! Please review for this chapter, and if you do I'll be happy and write more!**

**Jaa ne!**


	11. Childish Screams

**Disclamier: I do not own Fire Emblem: Semai no Kouseki, or any characters used thus far.**

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_I always wanted to be a knight, and follow in my father's footsteps. I wanted to be great, like him, and serve Renais to the best of my ability. I always dreamed about riding into battle, and fighting alongside knights like my father. I always wanted Forde to 'play knights' with me, and usually he managed to be a dragon, or a monster I had to slay. I was always the hero, and the kill was always bathed in child's glory._

_My first kill wasn't bathed in glory, or anything close to glory. It was awful, and seemed a crime. It was a brigand who had been attacking a village, but the sight of the man's blood on me, on my sword, and on the ground made me sick. I hated killing, but I could do it if I shut off part of myself to do it. I could kill enemies almost mindlessly, and feel little effect afterwards._

_Still, I hate killing, but I will do it. I will kill to save the people I love, and my comrades. I'll kill to protect my country, and the people I serve. I'll kill to save the Prince or Princess of Renais, if that's what it takes._

_

* * *

_

The Demon King's cheek was pressed against something rough and warm. There was something warm resting on his shoulder, and cold stone beneath the rest of his body. He cursed his weak host for holding him back so long, but now there was no resistance from Lyon. The human had fallen into a sleep he wasn't likely to wake up from soon.

The Demon King opened his borrowed eyes, and saw a floor. He frowned, and sat up slowly. The warm thing fell away from his shoulder, and he found he was looking at Ephraim of Renais, his new host body. A scowl formed on the Demon King's face, and he pulled his feet under him. He paused, staring at the sleeping face on Ephraim. The Demon King had intended to punish the boy severely for his attempt to escape, but now he realized the boy's body was wearing thin.

Breaking the body would only make it weaker then the Demon King's current vessel, but breaking the mind would prepare the body for a take over. Transferring so much energy into a body was difficult, and it could very well kill the body, if the body was weak enough. The demon King smiled wickedly, and leaned forward. He touched two fingers to Ephraim's forehead, and closed his eyes.

Images flashed in front of his eyes: people, thing, places. He knew most were important, many were vastly important to Ephraim. Two people stood apart from the rest-Eirika, and a small dragon girl with wings. Mrryh, the manakete Ephraim was sheltering. He had two choices for his plan-a weak little dragon girl at his doorstep, and a Princess far away. The Demon King pulled back, and stood. Ephraim had not stirred yet, and he wouldn't for a long while. The human was exhausted.

The Demon King swept from the room, changing the magical lock behind him, and smiling to himself. It wouldn't take much to break Ephraim's mind. It would take only a few pushes from its current state, and then there would be nothing left. Despair already had a deep hold on the Prince, and he was confused. It would only take a few broken corpses, maybe word delivered straight from Lyon's mouth that Monsters had killed some of Ephraim's comrades, maybe all of them. A broken, barely breathing body with smashed dragon wings would bring the lofty Prince crashing down into oblivion.

There was always something sickly sweet about the final look of despair before a human's eye blanked of emotion, or into insanity. Ephraim's last moment's of lucidity would be sweeter then any before, and his final crash would be a triumph over the entire continent.

* * *

Myrrh sat with her knees drawn to her chest, and the wind playing over her skin. She preferred the frigid cold to the company of the camp of late. She knew she made some people nervous, and she was too weak to actually help in rescuing Ephraim. She missed the prince greatly. Ephraim had always been willing to talk to her, or overlook the fact she was a manakute. He didn't care that she wasn't really human.

Now, despite everything Ephraim had done for her, Myrrh couldn't do anything to save him. She tucked her head to her knees, and tried to keep them from shaking. She felt alone, and scared. She was frightened for Ephraim, and disgusted by her uselessness. She felt she had betrayed Ephraim in some deep way, and in a way she had.

The dragon girl heard wings flapping, but she didn't move. It was probably a bird. The sound got louder, and Myrrh whipped her head up in alarm. She screamed, but it was drowned out in the Gargoyle's shriek. She threw herself back, eyes wide with fright, and body tense. Talons scraped her face, and shoulder. The gargoyle mounted high, and prepared to come back down. Myrrh whipped around and scrambled down the hill. The camp wasn't very far away, maybe she could make it.

Something hit her back, and her left wings snapped. She screamed her voice breaking in pain. Her attacker held tight to the mangled wing and crunched the bone's further. Blood ran down Myrrh's back. She swung her elbow around and it hit something warm and furry. She hoped to dislodge eth creature, but instead she only gave it another target. It latched onto her elbow, gradually cracking the bones in her arm.

Myrrh screamed again, hoping someone would hear her. She didn't want to die, or be eaten by monsters. The creature shook her arm, sending shockwaves of pain through her body, and banging her shattered wing against the ground. She screamed higher, and louder then she had ever thought possible, and she tried to kick the creature away from her. She couldn't. She couldn't get her legs to respond properly. It was only thanks to her heritage she wasn't dead yet.

Myrrh's arm dropped useless beside her, and the Gargoyle landed in a shower of pebbles. There was a growl from eth creature on top of Myrrh, and then it leapt at eth Gargoyle. Myrrh blinked, her mind hazed with pain, and finally moved. She rolled to her feet, and tried to run. She couldn't Her feet stumbled, and she fell. She rolled down the hill, her broken arm and wing smashed cruelly against the rock.

When she finally stopped she lay crying at the bottom. Her mind was wavering on the verge of unconsciousness. Rock showered down on her, and she felt the monster's hot breath on her leg. The monster grabbed her leg, and began dragging her backwards, up the mountain. It was going to kill her, or maybe eat her. Myrrh couldn't gather breath to scream.

The monsters stopped, blood and saliva ran down Mrryh's leg, and her leg drpped to the ground. Myrrh thought she heard voices. She tried to turn her head, but she couldn't. Suddenly something large and heavy landed on her back. She felt claws dig into her, and the air around her stirred. She could feel the ground trying to fall away, and knew she was about to be carried away by a Gargoyle.

She would be airborne soon, and then she would be lost. The monster would eat her, or feed her to its young ones. Mrryh's mind shuddered, and she remebered seeing a batch of robins hatchlings fighting over a worm.

* * *

"There's been an attack! Two monsters appeared at the north side of camp and-" Franz slipped, and gasped for air. "They've got Mrryh!"

"What!" Eirika shot to her feet, and grabbed her sword.

"A Mauth Doog and a Gargoyle attacked, and the gargoyle's trying to fly away with Mrryh!" Franz gasped, his face in high color. "Neimi, Artur, and Gerrik are already there, but the gargoyle won't let Mrryh go."

"Tana, get you pegasus and head for the north side," Eirika ordered, her feet already heading for the door. She knew her brother cared for Mrryh, and she wouldn't allow the dragon girl to be killed. "Franz, go find Cormag and tell him to do the same!" She waited for no confirmation, and ran. She heard feet slapping the dirt behind her, and knew Seth was following her.

She could hear a clamor clearly, and headed for it. She forced her legs to reach, and gripped her sword tightly to keep it from tangling in her legs. She prayed silently the Tana and Cormag would come quickly. Eirika broke through eth sea of tents, and found a grisly sight. A gargoyle was indeed trying to fly away with a battered Mrryh in its talons. More monsters had come since Franz had reported, and now several misshapen beasts fought with some of the small army. The air was full of screams and blood.

Eirika heard thundering hooves, and turned around to find Tana racing up, bent low over her pagsus's neck. "Cormag's right behind me, he's already flying!" Tana yelled, and, with a mighty push, her pegasus was air born. Eirika watched as she sailed away, up towards the gargoyle. Cormag's wyvern flashed by over head, the rider crouched low. Thunder and Fire spells cracked through the air, and the ground battle was winding down quickly. Healers now moved in, preparing to take care of the wounded.

* * *

The battle in the sky raged on. Tana clung to her mount with her legs, batting away the snapping jaws that tried to crush her arm. She could see Mrryh, battered, and bleeding profusely in the monster's claws. One arm flopped at a gruesome angle, and one wing was obviously broken. The problem was getting Mrryh away from the gargoyle before she died.

Cormag signaled for Tana to fly low, and his wyvern beat its wings hard, gaining altitude. Tana told her mount to drop, and blood splattered over her arms and face. The putrid smell of the gargoyle made her gag, and when she realized Mrryh's blood was falling on her she nearly lost her stomach. With an ear splitting shriek the Wyvern dove suddenly onto the gargoyle, and the monster's head cracked between the wyvern's massive jaws.

The claws convulsed, and went limp. Tana grabbed Mrryh as blood, bone, and gargoyle brain rained down on her. He pegasus jumped away from the tumbling body, and Tana cradled Mrryh's body close to her, feeling the shallow breath and flimsy heart beat. She urged her mount down, and her stomach turned as she felt the bones in Mrryh's arm shift.

Natasha was waiting on the ground, her face pale, and her pristine dress blood splattered. Tana tried to ease herself to the ground, but she knew she jarred the precious burden in her arms.

"The Goddess have mercy," Natasha gasped, and rushed forward. Moulder followed her, his face grave. Adrenaline flowed quickly from Tana, and she realized blood was trailing down her face, and she was covered in bit of flesh and bone. Her stomach gave a sick twist, and she hunched her shoulders, trying to keep the bile form rising in her throat.

"Mend," Natasha watched as the glow spread, and some of the wounds knit together. "It's not enough."

"Mend," Moudler said his face grave. "Sister Natasha, try again." Natasha nodded, and Tana watched as the healers continued knitting the small body together. She could feel, and see some of the injuries draw closed. Her arms were shaking, and she felt she was going to be sick.

"Easy Tana," Innes eased his arms under hers. Tana must have looked awful if her brother was helping her.

"Is she going to be okay?" Tana asked in an amazingly small voice.

"She'll live." Moulder said no more, and looked at the dragon girl. "She'll be out for a while."

"I'll take her Tana," Eirika stepped forward, and eased Mrryh from Tana's quaking arms. "Thank you."

"Th-that was nothing," Tana managed, her voice shook, and she felt weak. "I-" A large clump of something slid into her mouth, and, despite her will not to, Tana threw up.

* * *

Ephraim had been drugged. They had slipped something into his broth, and within minutes he had been unable to move. He was unsure why he had been drugged, or where he had been taken. He was on his back, staring at a stone ceiling. The ceiling was very plain, and made of very well fitting stones. It was very well built, whatever it was. Ephraim wriggled his fingers, and wondered if he could sit up yet.

Ephraim pulled himself up, but he over balanced and fell forward. He winced, and found himself staring at a wall with a heavy wooden door in it. Half the door was metal bars, and the walls around it were the same well fitted stone as the ceiling. Ephraim waited for his mind to catch up with his eyes, and tried to push away the mental fog he was in.

It was hard to focus his thoughts, but he was quickly beginning to realize he knew where he was. A cell. More exactly a cell in Grado Keep. Ephraim and Lyon had spent many hours hiding away in unused cells to escape from lessons. Ephraim groaned very softly, establishing the fact that his vocal chords still worked.

Something in a corner of the room stirred, and Ephraim jerked around. His arms collapsed, and he landed in a heap on the ground. He cursed lividly, and struggled to regain mastery of his limbs. He would never take normal body control for granted again. He head lolled a little as he heaved himself up right again, and searched for the source of the noise.

A rat scurried across the floor, watching Ephraim with little caution. A rat-Ephraim snorted, but the sound was choked. He was being spooked by rats. He pushed himself against a wall, and leaned back. The rat waddled around, searching for crumbs left from former prisoners. Ephraim wondered distantly if he would ever have to search for crumbs like a rat. Would he be allowed to become so weak? Wasn't he already headed that way?

Was this where he would give in, a cell in the stronghold of a dear friend gone mad? Was Ephraim going mad? Was he already mad? He certainly was paranoid, whatever else he was. He was letting rats scare him.

"How weak," Ephraim chuckled. "How stupid." He was stupid because he still held onto hope that Lyon had some how done all this on accident. He was stupid because he still didn't want to hurt his friend.

Alone in a cell of Grado Keep, with only a rat to see him, Ephraim of Renais cried into his sleeve like a little child.

**A/N:Oogh, I'm definaitely not very happy with the middle part of this chapter, but I hate rewriting stuff. Okay, now, please reveiw much for this because the next chapter may be longer in coming. My usually writing time is taken up with a new puppy, so I won't have as much time to write things down. Sorry!**

**Jaa ne!**


	12. Secret Stealer

Rennec sat on a table, munching a hard roll, and watching. Watching was something that he did a lot in his line of work. He watched people, things, animals, paths, weather, and anything else that changed, and everything changed at one point in time. In the busy room some servants ate, and others served. It was a time honored system of turns and serving. Every servant took a turn cooking, serving, eating, or cleaning up after a meal. No matter how many times Rennec saw it he was impressed. Servants knew how things worked, and the stuff-nosed nobles could certainly learn a lot from them.

Rennec liked blending in with servants better then any other class of people. As a servant he needed an identity, and a few harmless quirks. This time around he was an old gambler with a 'possessed' hand. It was a quaint term for kleptomania, which Rennec used most often to explain small trinkets that came into his care. The women laughed it off when he nearly tripped over himself apologizing, and he tried to stay out the men's pockets. After each incident he was sent to a priest who exorcised his hand of a minor demon, and went on his way.

Today Rennec made sure to keep his hands away form any pockets, and pay close attention to everyone. Something was happening, and he didn't like the nervous way people talked. He was almost certain that it had something to with Ephraim of Renais, and that meant it had to do with him. So far he didn't think anyone suspected him, but he could never be too careful. Rennec had learned early paranoia paid off in his line of work.

"The dungeons? What a dreadful place, especially after-"

""Sh, don't talk about that here," A woman whispered urgently. "I don't want to hear about that again. It's just too awful." Rennec pricked his ears in the woman's direction, still munching on his roll.

"Oh, isn't it," Another woman agreed cheerfully. "but to put _him_ in a cell, of all places. It makes you wonder."

"This whole business makes me wonder. I have family in Renais, or I did," The first woman looked frightened and worried. "I just wish this war would end."

"At least it won't be coming here any time soon. Anyone would have to be crazy to even try to attack Grado Keep," The second woman tittered.

"I wouldn't say that, especially since, since" The first woman lowered her voice further. "Prince Ephraim is here, in the Keep."

"Dearie, he's locked in the dungeons, what's he gonna do?" The second woman giggled. A man called something loud and lewd to the second woman, who laughed, and swished off. Rennec tried hard not to choke on his roll, or make a face. Ephraim was locked in the dungeons? That was different. From what Rennec had learned Ephraim was to be kept in a room close to Lyon's quarters for easy access.

Rennec waited for a while, and then hopped off his table. He discreetly moved through the crowd, trying to remember obscure facts he had picked up over the last few days. Rennec prided himself in remembering minute details, and pulling them up when they were useful. He attributed it to having to learn obscure noble's names in his youth.

The rogue finally spotted the right head of tawny hair, and ducked quickly around a few drinking men. Rennec reached out, and grabbed the woman's sleeve. "Martha."

The woman turned around, her pale eyes wide, and her face tight. "Oh, Rennec, I-I have to go and take food to one of the prisoners."

Rennec smiled sympathetically. "I know, but I was hoping you'd let me do it Martha. You've been so busy lately with your mother's illness. How is she, by the way?"

"No worse, but no better. I guess I can't complain," Martha answered, her eyes watering. "Still-"

"There, there," Rennec produced a handkerchief, and offered to the teary woman. "It's all right. See, this is what I mean. You work yourself to the bone."

"I guess I could use a break…Just tell the cook and she'll give you what you need. She's in charge of-of his meals." Martha took the handkerchief, and twisted it between her hands. "Maybe I should just do it. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"I'm just carrying a meal, nothing to worry about dear," Rennec smiled, and touched the woman's shoulder. "Just rest up, all right?"

"Okay," Martha smiled, and Rennec pecked her on the cheek. He whisked off quickly, knowing he needed to confirm Ephraim's health with his own eyes. He doubted that certain people would be content with his reports if he didn't. The problem would be making sure they believed him. Rennec made sure to keep his normal smile on his face as he maneuvered towards the kitchen.

When he told the cook what he was doing she didn't scowl as much as she usually did, and pointed out the tray with out a scathing remark. The tray held a bowl of broth and two slices of bread. The bread was stale, but it was still a feast for a prisoner. So, the Demon King had been pushing Ephraim's body too hard, and now he was trying to replenish some of the lost strength. Rennec kept his gloating smile hidden. He enjoyed being able to tell what was happening around him.

Still, there was no guard. Rennec had expected to be accompanied by a guard while delivering food to such a prized prisoner. There was hardly anyone in the servant's passages, and a sudden feeling of dread descended upon Rennec. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to loosen the tight knot that started growing between them. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the passages being a little empty around supper time. It was, in fact, perfectly normal. The feeling of dread, however, had its claws deeply into Rennec, and it didn't intend to let go.

When Rennec ducked through the low servant's door he tried to place his normal smile on his face, but it felt a little too stiff. He hoped silently that no one would notice his unease. He just smiled, and showed the guard at the door of the dungeons his plate of food, and was let through the door. The stench of rotting flesh was almost overpowering, and the unpleasant smell of human waste rose under the rotting smell. Rennec almost gagged, and jumped when something screamed.

"Don't worry, there'll all in cells," A guard chuckled hoarsely. Rennec glanced at the man, and found two haunted eyes looking back at him. Who wouldn't look that way after staying in these dungeons long? As Rennec walked down the rows of cells he could hear people moaning, groaning, and sometimes screaming. He refused to be unnerved by it all, but he had to clench his hands tight to keep them from shaking. Were all the cells full of people?

Ephraim's cell was the only one with a guard in front of it, and the man took a key ring off his belt when he saw Rennec coming. The guard stopped, and looked Rennec over carefully. "I haven't seen you before."

"I don't usually bring food, but I'm filling in for one of the maids, Martha, she's not feeling well," Rennec explained, trying to sound smooth. His voice was a little tight, and his hands were still trying to shake. How did the maids manage to stand it?

The man nodded, his face weary. "All right, just be careful. He's not likely to try anything, but I wouldn't put it past him." With that warning the guard unlocked the door, and let Rennec walk in. Rennec nearly dropped his try in surprise, and froze. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had only seen Ephraim once or twice, and not once since his capture, but...

The figure, lying flat on his stomach, was unwashed, and seemed asleep. His clothes were dirty and torn. Ephraim was not asleep. When Rennec set the tray down the Prince looked up with the eyes of a lost man, and stared at Rennec. The gaze was unnerving, and Rennec quickly averted his gaze. Was this the proud and brave man who had lead an army into the very heart of enemy territory?

"I brought you your food," Rennec tried to sound cheerful. He was just a servant doing his duty, and seeing the enemy commander brought low shouldn't fill him with dread. Rennec mind began racing. He needed proof he had seen Ephraim. Everything that would have identified him easily had probably already been taken away. Rennec stared hopelessly and Ephraim for a moment, and tried to think of something. The most unique thing about the Prince right now was his hair.

His _hair_.

Rennec pulled a string from his pocket, and glanced back at the door. It was cracked, but the guard wasn't even paying attention. Rennec leaned forward, and began whispering very softly. "Listen, I have contact with your sister, and your army. Don't move." Rennec quickly tied a piece of the Prince's matted a dirty hair with the string, and pulled out his small belt dagger.

Ephraim had yet to move, but recognition seemed to dawn on his face, and he didn't flinch as the dagger sliced through his hair. Rennec tucked the dagger and hair away quickly. He was now thankful he always kept any daggers on his very sharp. Cutting the lock of hair off would have been much more difficult if he didn't.

Ephraim suddenly grabbed Rennec's arm. The formerly dead looking eyes were sharp. "Tell them to get away. _He's_ going to attack them. Tell them they _have_ to get away. Tell Eirika to get away from here."

"I will-let go." Rennec pulled his arm from Ephraim's now slack grip, and backed away. He watched as Ephraim sat up, and saw the swollen marks on the Prince's right arm, and the stiff was he moved. Obviously whatever the Demon King was doing to Ephraim was taking its toll. Rennec grabbed up the empty tray and bowl from another meal then left the cell. The door was closed and locked behind him.

The guard chuckled, but the sound sent shivers through Rennec. "You won't be back, I guess."

"Not unless I have to," Rennec replied truthfully, trying to shake the horrid feeling building in his stomach. "This isn't a nice place to stay around." The guard laughed mirthlessly, and settled back against the wall. Rennec didn't bother looking back. He walked fast, struggling to keep his face under control.

* * *

A man with a pipe and a hurried look was normal. Rennec smiled past a woman, and nearly trotted to the gardens. It was growing very dark, and there was no moon to provide extra light. Rennec had forced himself to wait dark, and even now he felt watched. His skin seemed to crawl with the sensation of watching eyes, but he did his best not to show it. He wouldn't let a small case of the jitters mess him up.

Rennec pretended to be absorbed in the task of stuffing tobacco into his pipe, and walked further into the dark gardens. He had a 'favorite' place by an old plum tree where he could easily slip out of the walled fortress and into the town. After that was done he used a tunnel that had been used years earlier to smuggle food into the city during a siege, but had long been forgotten. The ancient sealing enchantments were gone, and the lock was rusted away to nothing.

Rennec tried to quiet his paranoia, telling himself there was no way any could know he was a spy. The reason his hands were shaking was he was having a sight withdrawal from his pipe. He had been keeping away form it lately. That was a reason and a good one for certain. Still, Rennec nearly dropped his pipe twice trying to light it.

Rennec took a long draw of his pipe, and began choking. There was something especially bitter about the smoke he inhaled. Rennec thumped his chest and finally drew a short breath. He stood almost double, breathing in gasps for a while. His pipe had fallen to the ground. Rennec reached for his pipe, and heard booted footsteps approaching. He slowly picked his pipe up, but he didn't put it back between his teeth.

Ten soldiers were approaching, and one of them looked like an officer. Rennec bowed quickly when the group got close enough, and tried to adopt his frazzled servant demeanor. His heart was pounding against his chest, and his mouth was going dry. He straightened and looked at the officer.

"You're Rennec, a servant of Grado, right?" The officer was stiff, and his hard face didn't bode well.

"Why yes sir, that would be me," Rennec bowed, and knuckled his forehead. "How may I be of service to you?"

The man's hard face didn't change, and some of the soldiers seemed nervous. "You're going to come with us."

Rennec nearly dropped his pipe. Had they found him out already? "But sir, I have jobs to do, and if I don't do them no one will. I haven't done anything wrong sir, I'm an honest worker."

"Spy talk," One soldier whispered to another. Rennec pretended not to hear, and kept his gaze firmly on the officer. They had found him out, and they were here to take him away for questioning. He had seen this too many times to be fooled. His only chance now was escape.

"Sir, if it's something to do with my hand I was just about to see the priest about it. It's a problem, but an exorcism clears it right up sir. I return everything that gets snitched, honest I do sir," Rennec babbled, and eased himself back a little.

The expressions around his were extremely confused. It had nothing to do with his 'possessed' hand; it was his spy work after all. Rennec tightened his grip on his pipe, and prepared to move. His mind flashed through several scenarios, and he finally settled on his plan of action.

"What are you talking about ma-" Rennec threw the pipe. Ashes and tobacco flew into the officers face, and Rennec was darting behind the plum tree. He heard several shouts, and then dashed forward. He hit the side of the hole with his shoulder, but managed to hook his fingers onto the rough stone of the other side. He yanked himself forward, scraping his forehead, and kicked his heels into the dirt of the garden.

A hand caught his ankle, and he smashed his other heel into it. Before another grab could be made Rennec was through his hole, and running into the darkness. An arrow whizzed by and nicked his face. He dove sideways behind a cart and crouched there. He could hear shouts, and a few more arrows flew blindly into the darkness.

Rennec moved again quickly, rushing for the side alleys and back ways that would either condemn him or grant him his freedom. He let one hand ghost along a wall as he ran, trying to keep his footsteps quiet. He could get out if only they hadn't found his secret exit. All the other exits would be closed up as soon as they learned that there was a spy loose.

Rennec slowed, his breath was catching oddly in his chest. He pressed a hand hard, and felt his hammering heart. His heart was beating normally, at least, but there was definitely something wrong with his breathing. Rennec took a few experimental breaths, and found the odd hitch was getting worse.

He moved forward again, praying his secret passage would be unblocked, and reaching under his coat to touch the dirty lock of stolen hair. He would give his message to Eirika. He would do it if it killed him. He would prove the snobbish Innes wrong about him, and shove his loyalty in his face. Though, if he didn't get out and away he would die anyway. Rennec shuddered, and moved into a quick trot. The sooner he left the dirty city behind the better.

* * *

Mrryh drifted into awareness, her body ached, and her throat was burning. He opened her gummy eyes. Everything looked distorted. Her mind was working in slow jumps. She was alive. Mrryh tried to turn her head, but a sharp stab of pain in her shoulder stopped her. She was lucky to be alive after what had happened to her.

Mryyh hesitantly moved a hand, and placed it on her chest. Her chest ached most of everything. Mrryh twisted her body a little and found she was in her own tent-the one she shared with Tana and Eirika. Eirika was curled awkwardly in a makeshift chair, her head propped on her knee, and her hair disheveled. Her lips were moving, and her eyes darted back and forth under her closed eye lids.

Mrryh gasped softly and pain lanced through her wing, and she closed her eyes slowly. It was too much effort to keep awake. Eirika's hands were twitching, and the princess's breathing was too fast for normal dreams. Eirka's shoulder's twitched, and the chair rocked slightly. Mrryh blinked slowly, trying to stay awake, but she was quickly rifting away. A cold feeling of dread had suddenly settled over her, and she didn't know why.

Eirika's head rocked back, the girl's eyes were wide and sightless. She stared at Mrryh, one hand coming to clutch her throat, and whispered a name. It gave Mrryh chills, and the dragon girl scrambled for awareness.

"Ephraim…"

**A/N:Wagh, almost a month. Between vacations and a complete lack of inspiration I was seriously considering giving up on this stroy-since people seem to be losing interest- but I'll stick with it a little whlie longer. It's almost done anyway. Oh, no beginning introspective thing this time.**

**Thanks to the two wonderful people who reveiwed for the last chapter!**

**Jaa ne!**


	13. Lip Service

_I never wanted to be a great knight; I just wanted to be a competent one. I never wanted to be well known for my deeds, I just wanted to serve my Lord well. I wanted to be someone who could be counted on, and trusted to do the right thing. I set the world up in black and white, and decided I would be white._

_Then I discovered grey. I learned sometimes right is hard to discern, or find. Sometimes it looks like there is no right action to take, and sometimes the right is frightening, and hideous. I struggled to remain white as the grey came, but I knew I would never be completely white. No matter how I lived a situation would arise where I would be forced to take grey action, and maybe, heaven forbid, black._

_

* * *

_

Franz glanced nervously at his brother, and then to Kyle. "It's not the right shape for a Grado soldier." Forde shook his head, but Kyle nodded.

"The toe is too pointed, and there is no emblem on the heel," Kyle pointed out. "But, it's not a peasants shoe either."

"Unless they had hard soled shoes," Forde remarked, but he sounded very pessimistic.

Kyle stood, and grabbed up the bundle of wood he had been carrying. "We should head back and report this immediately."

Forde balked, and looked around the woods. "Shouldn't we see if we can find out who is wandering around out here? We're half a day and a half from the nearest town."

"I think Forde's right," Franz ventured, trying to stall any fight between the two senior knights. When left alone the two bickered over the oddest things, and neither liked to give any ground. Kyle frowned, and Forde glanced around again.

"There's another track up this way." Forde examined the track, and walked forward a few steps.

"This person was bleeding..." Forde held up too bright red fingers, and rubbed the blood between his fingers. "A lot."

"Then maybe we should look for them," Franz suggested. Forde didn't say anything, and kept following the tracks he was finding. There were not enough of them to split up without leaving one alone, and they certainly couldn't do that. Franz looked between Kyle and Forde, and then grabbed his mare's reins.

"If they are injured we should," Kyle admitted. He quickly lashed the wood behind his saddle, and grabbed Forde's horse.

"Of course their injured," Forde grinned back at Kyle. "This person was limping as well as bleeding."

"Whoever it is could still be armed and dangerous," Kyle pointed out. Forde sighed dramatically, and rattled his sword in its sheath.

"Sir Kyle, we're armed, dangerous, and uninjured," Forde quipped. "Now, lets' see if we can't find this fine fellow before he bleeds to death."

"How do you know it's a he?" Kyle asked, hefting his lance.

"I've never seen a girl with feet that big." Forde grinned, and took his mare's reins from Kyle. "This way." Kyle just rolled his eyes, and Franz decided the threat of an immediate was over. Now he just had to worry about an ambush, and the person they were tracking. Kyle was right when he said the person could be dangerous. A cornered and injured fox was much more vicious then a healthy one with exit options. Franz loosened his sword in his sheath, and followed his brother. With horses sneaking up on the person was completely out of the question.

The woods got thinner as they went, and the trail seemed to be leading them back to the mountains. After a few sharp turns it was obvious they were going back to the foothills, and everyone got a little nervous. Footsteps got lighter, and hands moved closer to weapons. The horses picked up on the human's apprehension and began dancing slightly. Franz tried to quiet his breathing, but he could do nothing to slow his pounding heart.

A few loose rocks slid, and everyone froze. Forde drew his sword, and looked up from the ground. "All right, show yourself. We know you're there." Franz crouched, ready for anything. It could be a lone man, or many.

"Aah, Sir Forde, Sir Kyle, and Sir Franz, three knights loyal to Renais-just the people I was looking for." A very battered man stumbled into view, grinning sharply.

"Rennec!" Franz yelped. The spy was bleeding from several large wounds, and one arm dangled uselessly at his side.

"Good to see you remember me," Rennec winced, and swayed slightly. "Now, I need to make a report to Princess Eirika, but I'm afraid I can't make it there on my own."

"Of course you can't, you look like a troop of Grado's soldier's ran over you," Franz gasped, and fumbled for the vulnerary's he always kept on him. He wished he had an elixir, but Rennec would just have to make due. Kyle had already taken action, and gotten Rennec to sit down. The man was explaining he had been almost caught by some of Grado's men, but he was pretty sure he had lost them.

"It's better not to take chances like that," Kyle frowned, and glanced around nervously. Franz handed his vulnerary to Rennec, and spy grinned before downing it in one gulp. A convulsion swept through his body as the healing took place, but there were still many cuts that remained unhealed.

Forde glanced around the thin forest. "How many soldiers were after you?"

Rennec shrugged casually, and stood up slowly. "Fifteen, twenty, more then I'd want to fight on any day."

Forde swore causally and grabbed his mare's reins. "The, Sir Rennec, you'll have to ride with one of us. I'd suggest Kyle, since he has the sturdiest horse among us." The Knight sheathed his sword with a sharp clack, and Franz followed suit.

"And the least flighty," Kyle muttered softly. "We should go now, before anything finds us."

"Right," Franz took the pile of wood Kyle had unlashed form his saddle, and tied it to his own. Franz swung into the saddle, and held the prancing mare back. Kyle helped Rennec up behind the saddle, and then hopped up himself. The senior knight set a quick pace back into the mountains. Franz glanced behind, hoping Rennec was right about losing the soldiers.

Loaded down as they were it would be hard, maybe impossible in the mountains, to outrun a troop of soldiers. If they had horses it would be impossible. Franz began praying silently, and kept his hand on his lance. Whatever happened they had to get Rennec to the camp so he could report. Even if it meant his death Franz would not let the Grado soldiers keep Rennec from giving his report.

* * *

Moving was a waste of energy. There was no real point in it, and it hurt when he did. Now, even though footsteps were approaching, Ephraim didn't move. He kept his head pillowed on his arm, and his breathing steady. There wasn't much the guards could do to him anyway. If it was food he'd eat it later. He wasn't really hungry, or, that was what he thought. He wasn't sure anymore if he was, or wasn't anything.

The footsteps stopped, but no tray was placed down. The empty tray wasn't taken away either. Ephraim wasn't even tempted to look at the person standing by him. It was a guard, or maybe it was Rennec. Had the man been lying when he'd said that he was in contact with Eirika? Had his sister gotten his message? Would she do what he asked?

A hand suddenly hooked in Ephraim's hair, and his head was tilted up. Ephraim reacted suddenly, and slammed his leg in the other person's knee. He jerked his head back, leaving a handful of hair, but escaping the persons grasp. Ephraim crouched, ready to move again.

The Demon Kings' cold laugh made Ephraim shudder. Slowly the Demon picked Lyon's body off the ground, and stood. "Well, well, it seems you're doing better then I thought you were, Ephraim. I was told you were pining away, and had lost your mind, but it seems you were only biding you time. After all."

Ephraim sank back to the floor, and looked back at the demon, his head swimming now. Movement was his enemy. The Demon King walked closer, and Ephraim leaned back. He overbalanced and fell. A cold laugh echoed off the walls, and Ephraim winced. He felt a cloth covered foot poke him, and closed his eyes. If he couldn't see the Demon King using his friends face it wasn't as bad.

"How much of this is clever acting, my dear friend? How weak are you really? I know you're stronger then this Ephraim. I know." The Demon King's voice lost its rasp, and Ephraim stiffened.

"How dare you use his voice!" Ephraim glared at the smiling creature before him. "How dare you use Lyon's voice! You don't know me, but you're using him to search out my weakness."

"How clever, but, isn't Lyon still betraying you? He's letting an enemy, the enemy he let loose, ravage his mind for secrets of you. He's letting me know what I need to know, and he's leading me to the tasty tib-bits you told him in secrecy. I know all about the time you put spiders in your sister hair, or when you and Lyon ran away for a week just to make Duessel worry.

"Lyon told me all about the time you two were both thrown into the river by Eirika, and about the time Eirika kissed Lyon at Yuletide under the mistletoe that was really river weed." Ephraim pressed his hands over his ears. He hated the way the Demon casually spilled the secrets Ephraim had told only Lyon. The whispered plans, and passed noted in classes came readily to eth monsters lips.

"Shut up, Shut up!" Ephraim yelled. He curled into a ball, trying to block on the ever droning voice. The memories flashed vividly in his mind, and part of him screamed Lyon was a traitor. He cringed away from the tender wounds the voice opened up. He had spent hours trying to banish the thoughts of Lyon's betrayal, but know they were all rushing back.

"-the time you and Lyon stole sweet rolls from the kitchen and dropped rotten eggs on the maid that made fun of Eirika. The class you skipped to find the bracelet Eirika lost-"

"Stop using his voice!" Ephraim shouted angrily. "Stop, stop, STOP!" Ephraim curled into a tighter ball, and pressed his hand tighter against his ears. "You're not Lyon! You're not!"

_But he is, he is Lyon. He's using Lyon's body. He knows things only Lyon can know. How can he not be Lyon? What makes him different from the friend before all this? Isn't he the same, the exact same? Same face, same memories?_

"YOU'RE NOT LYON!"

"Ephraim, Ephraim!" A hand was shaking his shoulder, and the voice calling his was wavering. Blood, warm thick blood, splashed on Ephraim's face.

Ephraim opened his eyes slowly, and looked up at the person leaning heavily on him. A very wide pale eye looked out from pale, sweaty face. Blood dribbled from Lyon's mouth and nose, falling in faltering pattern on Ephraim's face and shoulder. Lyon smiled, and dropped his head wearily onto Ephraim's shoulder.

"I can't do this. I can't hold him back. He just, he just keeps getting stronger, and I keep getting weaker," Lyon coughed, and shuddered. "I'm losing myself..."

Ephraim shook his head, but he couldn't move. His display of defiance had worn him out. Lyon was losing himself. Ephraim would lose himself. It was only a matter of time. He would fall before the awesome might of the Demon Lord.

"But I won't let him have my body. I'll die before I let him have my body," Ephraim whispered vehemently. Lyon shook his head, and Ephraim was unsure whether he was crying or laughing.

* * *

Seth had decided sitting down was more important then looking imposing. He had been losing sleep over the past few days, and there were bags under his eyes. He knew he was beginning to look like the living dead, but there was little he could do about. Sleep refused to come, and lately Princess Erika had been losing sleep as well. She said it was because of nightmares she kept having about her brother.

Now Eirika was sitting with her head in her hands, and she looked hopeless. Her shoulders slumped, and each breath seemed strained. The bones in her wrists were more prominent then they had been a week ago, and her skin looked paler, and thinner then Seth ever remembered them being.

The others in the room were faring little better. Duessel looked more severe then usually, and Innes looked down right sour. Even Tana and L'arachel looked wilted. Still, each of them had appeared quickly when they had learned that Rennec was back with a very important message. He had, it appeared, fainted sometimes before arriving, but he was awake now, and ready to give his message.

Rennec limped into the tent without a knock, or announcement. Eirika's head shot up, and Seth tried to sit up straighter. The spy dropped himself into the nearest chair, and sighed heavily. He rummaged inside his torn and bloody coat and pulled out something he held in a tight fist. "Here, Princess Eirika, is proof I have seen your brother."

Eirika's eyes were wide with hope and disbelief. She took the offered proof from Rennec with hand that trembled slightly, and examined it carefully. She touched it hesitantly, and held up a dirty lock of hair to the light. She compared it momentarily to her own hair, and then let her hand drop serenely to her lap. "It is my brother's hair," She said in an admirably steady voice.

Seth felt a new hope leap in his chest, but he crushed it quickly. Optimism wouldn't get very far, and Seth was too tired for another false hope. Everyone was too tired for another false hope. The entire camp was wearing down through constant waiting at fear. Monsters attacked at random, and at least five soldiers were in the medical tent unable to find.

"Glad you recognize it," Rennec groaned slightly. "Ephraim has been moved to a cell, and he's not doing well. His body is breaking down, but I'm not sure about the condition of his mind. He's obviously not insane yet, but he might not be that way for very long."

Rennec paused and took a few breaths, and winced. "He said: 'Tell them to get away. He's going to attack them. Tell them they have to get away. Tell Eirika to get away from here.'" Rennec sat back, and gently rubbed his arm. "I can't go back-they know I'm a spy. I'll give you my professional opinion, Princess Eirika. A man, even one like your twin brother, can't hold up long against what he's been going through. It may take a while, but the Demon King is going to break through his mind, and take his body."

Seth forced back the curses on his lips, and watched Eirika. She was looking down at the hair in her hand, and one of her fingers was stroking the mangled lock. Everyone was watching her, and she knew it. She closed here eyes, and took a long steady breath. She clenched her hand around the hair, and brought her fist to her mouth.

"We'll attack Grado Keep then. There's no other way. We'll do it with a small enough force to escape too much notice. We'll go in, and get Ephraim, and then get out." Eirika kept her voice level, but she stood. "Rennec, I ask you to lead us to a place that will be advantageous. You will be compensated for the risk. Duessel, I ask you to be in charge of this operation, but allow me to choose a few people to ride with us.

"Seth," Eirika paused. "You are to see to the supplies, and make sure everyone going is equipped with the finest weapons we have. I also put you in charge of making sure the people left behind will be kept safe from any attack."

Seth nodded, and bowed, but he grimaced mentally. He was going to stay back while the other charged into danger and saved Ephraim. He didn't like it, but it was important to keep the rest of the army safe. It didn't matter if he was rear guard, or front charger he would do his duty to the death.

Eirika took another deep breath, and bowed to Rennec. "Renais is in your debt. What little money we can offer, and my gratitude is all I can pay you. You will always be a welcome guest in Renais."

Rennec grimaced, but that might have been his wounds. "I'm flattered, but right now I just want to rest and talk to a healer."

Eirika actually smiled. "Go, and don't come back till you're well enough to ride with a charge." Rennec limped from the tent, and Eirika turned back to Seth. "Please tell Forde and Kyle I have suitable punishments for them now, General Seth."

"I will," Seth stood slowly, and bowed to Eirika. "Should I send them here?"

"No, send them to my tent; I want to check on Myrrh." Eirika bowed to the small assembly. "I ask leave of you all." She had no need to wait for anyone's consent and she quickly left the tent, Tana close on her heels.

"So now, we ride to our deaths," Innes smirked, and left. Seth watched him go, and then set out to find the two elusive knights. They were never around when he needed them. Surprisingly Seth had not gone very far when the two knights found him.

"Princess Eirika wishes to see you. She is in her tent, and says she has a suitable punishment for you both." Seth reported. The two bowed, and, with almost identical looks of morbid satisfaction they set off. How the two had ever gotten Eirika to agree to punishment was beyond Seth. He was glad she had though. If they were 'punished' then they could move on, and put the mistake behind them.

Seth drew his hands through his hair, and set off for the supply tents. He had a duty to perform, and there was no sense in wasting any time doing it. The sooner the supplies were in order the sooner they could move, and that meant less time for Ephraim to be captured. That meant more of a chance that Ephraim would be sane when he was found. Seth had seen the horrors of a dungeon and he had seen men older and more seasoned then Ephraim go insane.

But those men had been driven past insanity by mortal men, and Ephraim had the legendary Demon Kings after him.

**A/N: Well, two weeks isn't so bad. Yes, things are winding to a close, but the end is a little undecided. The beginning was supposed to be Kyle, but I'm not very sure about his character. Thank you for reviewing! Please Review for this chapter as well!**


	14. Nightmare Dreaming

_Blood, bone, crushing, tearing, eating-I live for ripping out throat, for wallowing in blood. Screams sound sweat as church chimes, sobs are a lullaby. Blood is power, rage. Flesh is sweet straight from the bone, and bone crunches with deafening praises. Blood, bone, crushing, eating tearing, ripping, massacre. _

_Fear holds blood letting in check, hold back my anxious jaws, and tearing claws. Cold power suffocates my mind, threatening the eternal sleep if blood is spilled un-commanded. When the power says, then the blood flows. Worship, fear, devotion, power and betrayal. Every throat is to be torn, even the powers throat. Every soul must die, every life torn. Let me kill; let me feed; let me loose._

_

* * *

_

_A girl was curled up again Ephraim's chest. She was naked and crying. She couldn't have been more then five or four, but her face was pressed to Ephraim's tunic, and she was sobbing for him to help her. Ephraim had his arms around his shoulder, and his cheek against her hair. He was talking back, trying too sooth the girl's frantic words._

_Who was the girl?_

_He pulled back a little, trying to see her face, but she screamed, and pressed herself harder against him. She pleaded for him to help her, and to relieve her pain. She wailed he was the only one who could help her, and he had to get her away. Her voice was familiar, but in the distress it was hard to tell what the girl really sounded like._

_Ephraim lifted his head up, and caught sight of her hair. The light bleached the color from everything, but the hair felt familiar. He opened his mouth to ask her name, but he stopped. Blood covered her back, and two long gashes trailed down her skin. Ephraim but his lip, and tried to pull his hands away from the girl. How was she even conscious? The girl only held on tighter, and screamed louder. Her voice gained volume with each plea, and soon her voice was pounding in Ephraim's head._

'_Help me, save me! You can save me! Just you! No one else can! They tried, but they can't! please, please save me! He's hurting me, and I can't get away! Please, he's hurting us both, but me-save me! Please, of please! Save me, save me, save me, save me-"_

"_EPHRAIM!"_

_Ephraim jerked his head up, and pain blossomed out from his chest. He looked down, and found the Reginleif sticking out of his chest, and the girl was gone. He could still here her screaming, but she wasn't there anymore. Ephraim coughed, and blood fell down his chest. The place he had been was gone, and the girl screamed one last time. Everything was silent and dark. Ephraim touched the spear head in his chest, and shuddered._

_Light seeped back in, and glinted off the blood covered steel. The ornate designs on the spear shaft glinted in the dull light, and blood fell onto the stone ground. Ephraim braced his hands on the ground, and struggle for breath. He was dying. He should be dead by now, but he was still struggling for breath. There was hope, if he could find a healer to tend to him._

_A lightning bug flashed in front of Ephraim's face, and he looked up. He saw Eirika and Lyon sitting on a stone bench, facing each other. Both were dressed in finery fit for a feast, and Eirika was wearing the crown of Renais, while Lyon wore a twisted crown of black metal. The two weren't talking, but watching each other earnestly. Ephraim got the feeling Lyon had just said something very important to Eirika._

_He wished they would look up and see him. He was breathing out blood with each breath, and he couldn't say anything. Surely Eirika could hear his hard breathing, or smell the stench of blood. Eirika always knew when he was in trouble, and she always came to help him when he needed her. How could she not now he was a few feet away dying?_

_Lyon reached out a black clad hand, and touched Erika's cheek. He said something too low to hear, and leaned forward. Eirika didn't lean back- she leaned forward. Ephraim stared as their lips met, and Eirka's hand caressed the hand on her cheek. Ephraim lay dying, and his twin, his other half, his sister and his best friend were sharing a kiss in front of him._

_Ephraim stared, engrossed by the hand on Eirka's cheek, and the shudders that now racked him. Why was this so wrong? Ephraim looked down, and saw Lyon's hand on Eirika's chest-through Eirika's chest. Blood spilled down the fine dress, and slipped past the locked lips. Ephraim shouted, but he could only choke on his own blood._

_Lyon stood, and Eirika's body rocked backwards. It fell onto the bench, spilling blood. The crown of Renais fell and shattered on the ground. Lyon looked at Ephraim, and smiled. Blood-Eirika's blood- stained his lips. He pointed a hand at Eirika, and said very softly. "She isn't dead."_

_Eirika jerked up right her mouth moving in pantomimed gasps, and her hand fluttering to her chest where the hole still gaped. Eirika's body stood, and she grabbed something from the ground. She threw the pieces of the shattered crown and Ephraim, and turned to face Lyon. Her face was meek, and her eyes were wide and pale._

_"You could have saved me." The voice rushed through Ephraim's head, swirling his thought together, and choking him. He could have? Lyon moved forward and took the corpses face in his hands. He leaned forward, and Ephraim wanted to scream. Something sharp pierced through his chest, and rammed him into the ground. Ephraim gasped, and he saw a small girl perched by him, her sword thrust through his ribs._

_The girl looked down at him with eyes red from crying, and Ephraim realized she was the small girl from before. She was Eirika. She looked at him, and smeared his blood across his face. "Why didn't you save me? Do you hate me?"_

"_N-n….Eiri-" Ephraim's words drowned in blood, and he saw Lyon licking the blood of the corpse's lips with a demon's smile._

_

* * *

_

"Hmm, so the spy escaped you, did he?" The soldier cringed, expecting his punishment to be swift, and painful. The demon King took a long draught of wine, and smiled in a way that was almost human. "No matter, just see to it that the prisoner in cell 375 is fed."

"Y-yes My lord," The soldier bowed, and quickly hurried from the room. The Demon King smirked, and stood. "Oh, stop you're yelling. He's just a pawn."

_A soldier of Grado! A loyal soldier! Why did you send him there? Those creatures-monsters, will eat him!_

"Yes, very loyal, he doesn't even question the fact you are acting in your father's stead, and that you've turned decidedly blood thirsty Lyon. Weren't you always meek and gentle before this?" That shut Lyon's tirade off. He always fell silent when faced with such logic. The Demon King chuckled and drained the last of the wine from his glass. "Now, on to more important matters."

_No, not that, just stop it! _Lyon's voice was feverishly high pitched, and the human banded futilely against the Demon King's control. _You've done enough; you're going to break his mind and his body!_ The Demon King chuckled, letting the protests continue.

"Maybe it's time to finally get rid of that puppet of your, the one you call your father?" The Demon King smirked when Lyon fell silent again, and made a noise close to a whimper. He was such a spineless creature. Lyon rolled over almost on command, and he's never offered much resistance. "A country with such a cowardly leader has no right to exist."

_You can't do anything to Grado! I won't let you!_ Lyon railed again, beating harder against the Demon King's control. The Demon King laughed, and Lyon yelled angrily. There were no words, but the absolute hate and revulsion was enough to turn the Demon King's stomach. He blamed it on Lyon's weak body.

"You've let me do everything else," The Demon King hissed. "You've let me kill your people, and attack your 'dearest' friend. You betrayed your people, and lie to them."

_No, no, no, just stop, I didn't-I haven't…… I couldn't do anything else. You made me! You did it! You're the one who attacked Renais._

"No, you released me, you let me. You did not hold me back Lyon, you did nothing to save Renais. You've done nothing to help your people, your friends. You've let all the people who trusted you die. You stabbed them all in the back with no regrets, or without even looking back." The Demon king listened to Lyon's faltering protests, and smiled. "You know it's true."

There was no reply. Lyon had boxed himself off from the Demon King, and refused to listen. That was the one thing the coward was good, running away. He had mastered blocking out the Demon King's wheedling voice, but only while the Demon King was in control of the body they shared.

"Don't worry Lyon, you'll get your body back. You'll get it back very, very soon."

* * *

Eternity was forever, and so was death. Why weren't the two interchangeable? Death meant the end of existence. Eternity meant on-and-on, never ending, never stopping. Death started, eternity didn't. Death began and never ended. Eternity never began, never ended. Death was what I wanted.

Each breath was thick, and his eyes swam in and out of focus. He breathed through my mouth because his nose was too stopped up. His chest and stomach ached from coughing. I winced as someone walked by, and rolled onto my side. He coughed, loud and rasping. It sounded like Lyon's coughs.

Ephraim had stopped eating. He tore the bread apart, and poured the broth over it. There were enough rats to clear the food off before anyone noticed. Ephraim had decided that he could not escape before the Demon King took over his body, and so he was going to die. He would stop eating and drinking, and then he would die.

This was the only course of action Ephraim had decided on. He could have killed Lyon, but he had decided it was impossible. Lyon, certainly, would have let him. Lyon would have let himself he choked, or stabbed, but Ephraim couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to so it. The thought turned his stomach, and made his mind falter. He didn't know why, but he couldn't.

Honor had no part in the reasoning. Honor demanded Lyon be killed for the affronts he had committed. Honor was ready to kill, and shed blood. Honor howled for Lyon's death at Ephraim's hands, and Ephraim knew he had a right to it. He should kill Lyon.

He couldn't kill Lyon. He was now physically incapable of killing Lyon, and he couldn't kill his friend. Lyon was now his only fleeting hope for escape and life. Lyon was the only one who could reach him now. He had sent his sister away, and he knew Rennac had been found out. There was no one else to offer help.

Now Ephraim was dying, and he was amazed by how hard it was. His body clung to life after two days of no food or water. His mind wandered aimlessly over topics, and hunger pains accompanied the fevered ache that lived under Ephraim's skin. His mouth was dry, and it tasted bitterly of bile.

The door opened, and the scarping noise sent pain stabbing through Ephraim's head. He looked up, and found a servant setting a food tray down in front of him. "Eat," The man commanded.

Ephraim looked at the man with dead eyes, and sat up slowly. He coughed hard, the noise deafening as it bounced around the cells walls. Ephraim stared at eth food, and he clutched his side, and waited for the man to leave. He would eat nothing.

"Eat it now," The man commanded again, making it obvious he wouldn't leave until the food was eaten. Ephraim picked up the bowl of broth, and pantomimed taking a sip. The man still watched, and Ephraim actually took a large sip. The broth, simpler enough for a child to make, was delicious to Ephraim's deprived senses, and he almost gulped at it greedily. He wouldn't eat more then he had to.

The man seemed content, and left. Ephraim watched for a while. The broth tempted his greatly. He knew a man could survive three days without water, and he was near that point. He quickly tipped the brother out, and began shredding the bread. The rats were already out, swarming around for their food. Some didn't even wait for the bread to be tossed away, and ate it from the tray.

Maybe the rats would eat him after he died, and maybe before he died. Ephraim chuckled hoarsely at the thought, and leaned back. He was losing his mind as well as his life. He prayed silently that Eirika would be all right, and Renais would rise again. He regretted he wouldn't be there to see it.

He didn't really deserve to see it. He had been away while Renais had fallen. He hadn't been there when his father had died, or Eirika had been forced to flee for her life. He hadn't been there for her, or their father. He hadn't been there for Renais either when she needed him. He was sworn to protect her, and he had failed.

Ephraim laughed softly, and smiled to himself. He deserved to die. This was the price he paid for letting Reanis fall. He should have paid closer attention to Lyon. He should have stayed home, and helped. He should have told his sister how much he loved her. He should have settled his fights with Innes. He should have….

A rat scurried over Ephraim's leg, and he smiled. "I deserve this. There's nothing else for someone like me." He closed his eyes, and drifted away.

**A/N: Here's the dose of mental torture for the day. Lah, I'm having low inspiration, but school is out so I'll try to update faster.**

**Question-What happened to all the reviewers? One Chapter got seven reviews, and seven people are watching this story, so why have the last few chapters only gotten a few reviews? Have people just lost interest in the story?**


	15. Prepared for Insanity

Forde would be the first to admit he was nervous. He had heard women's ideas of punishment were very different from men's ideas. He kept telling himself that Eirika would give a just punishment, and he deserved what he got. Still, he was nervous. Kyle seemed perfectly composed, but that only made Forde more nervous.

He walked into the tent, and dropped quickly into a quick bow to hide his obviously nervous face. Kyle dropped beside him, and the managed to say: "We have received your summons, and await our punishment." almost at the same time. Eirika sat down in a makeshift chair, and took a deep breath.

"Sir Kyle, Sir Forde, I have decided to storm Grado keep to get my brother back." Eirika's voice was calm, but Forde's heart leapt. Finally, action as being taken to get Ephraim back! "I have also decided on your punishment in light of this development."

Forde's stomach twisted. She was going to make them stay. It would be awful knowing their comrades were risking their lives for his and Kyle's mistake. Forde waited, trying to keep his breathing normal. He was composed. He was the picture of a composed knight.

"I have decided, as punishment, you will both ride at the front lines."

The front lines? Forde's mind blanked out for a moment, and he tried to process the thought. How was that punishment? That was what he wanted. He wanted to be one of the first to bring down vengeance on Grado's head for taking Ephraim. No, no, of course it was punishment. The front lines were the worst place to be from a logical stand point. The healers would be behind them, and it would take a long time to get assistance from healers. There was also the fact they were most likely to be killed out of all the men.

Forde grinned fiercely. "I accept your punishment, My lady." His words were echoed by Kyle, who sounded equally pleased with this turn of events. He stood, and bowed again at the waist. He was no longer a disgraced Knight, but a Knight with a duty and punishment. Eirika looked both pleased and fierce. She was just as ready as Forde to bring her brother back.

"I'm going too," Myrrh's voice was soft. Forde looked at eth dragon girl in surprise. She dropped off the bed, and stood. Her face was still pale from her attack, and she move stiffly. "I can fight too, and I will. Please, Lady Eirika. Lord Ephraim-he…."

"Myrrh, it will be too dangerous," Eirika said, standing up. "My brother put you under his protection, and I can't let anything happen to you while he's gone. We'll be able to bring him back."

Myrrh shook her head. "No, please, let me go. I can fight. I have to. Lord Ephraim has done so much for me, and I can't just sit by and let this happen to him. I won't get in the way."

Eirika stopped, and shook her head slowly. "I don't know."

"I think, you should let Lady Myrrh come, Princess Eirika," Saleh said suddenly. The sage was standing behind the Knights. "She will be a valuable member of the attack body if you do."

"If you're sure, then I'll allow her to come," Eirika sounded doubtful, but Myrrh smiled.

"Don't worry about me, Lady Eirika." The dragon girl's smile turned vicious, and she bowed. Forde shuddered slightly. That smile did not belong on such a young face.

"Sir Forde, Sir Kyle, please tell General Seth of your punishment, and report to him for weapons. It is your duty to see that you are well stocked in equipment," Eirika commanded. "Tell him I will hand the full list of battle members over in an hour." Forde and Kyle bowed, and saluted.

Forde hesitated. "Lady Eirika, is, I apologize for my rudeness, but is Franz going to be included in that attack?"

"Sir Franz is, but he is not going to be on the front lines," Eirika smiled, and bowed her head a little. Forde smiled back, and quickly followed Kyle out of the tent. Once they were a few feet away Kyle cuffed Forde in the side of the head.

"Why did you ask that?" Kyle hissed. "Where Franz is placed is not your worry. You shouldn't have asked her that right out."

Forde rubbed his sore ear. "I said 'excuse my rudeness'. Franz is my brother; I have a right to know where he's going to be. The front lines are no place for him."

Kyle smiled thinly. "The font lines are no place for any sane man." Forde laughed, and clapped Kyle on the back. After Ephraim had been captured neither of them had been very sane.

* * *

People were hurrying about. No one had time to answer any questions, or get involved in a conversation that was not about the upcoming attack. The camp was preparing to move, and the people involved in the actual attack were learning their places, and the battle plans. Everywhere people were dashing about, trying to get the work done as fast as possible.

Ewan was afraid. Even with Saleh around he was frightened. He knew people could die. Many people could die if something went wrong. Thirteen people were going, a very small group, but one any larger couldn't accomplish the mission ahead of them. Ewan just wished he didn't know the people who were going.

Tethys, Gerik, Saleh, and Amelia were going. Ewan was very afraid for them. He was glad Ross was staying to help guard the camp, but he wished Saleh was staying was staying to. He would feel much more safe if his teacher was staying. Still, in time of hardship you just had to tighten your belt and move on. Ewan had a sash, not a belt, but he knew expression like that weren't supposed to be taken literally. It meant to stop complaining and go on, but Ewan was having a very hard time doing that.

Ewan wandered around the camp, feeling small and lost. he felt out of sorts since so many people he knew were leaving. Marisa was staying, but Ewan really wished Tethys was staying. He saw a flash of red, and watched his sister twirl by. Tethys never look like she was in a hurry. She always looked like she was dancing from one place to another. Ewan darted through the crowd after her, and finally caught up to here while she was checking her supply of healing items.

Ewan through his arms around his sister, and buried his face in her side. He jumped a little, not expecting the sudden attack of affection. her heart was thumping a steady rhythm, and Ewan could feel it. Ewan took a deep breath, and looked up at Tethys.

"I don't want you to go," Ewan said protested. You can't fight, why do you have to go?"

Tethys sighed very lightly, and tapped Ewan's nose. "Because having a dancer among the troops is invaluable, Ewan. They need me to keep their hopes up." Tethys smiled brilliantly.

"But you could die!" Ewan almost wailed. "It's too dangerous, a lot more dangerous then the other fights we've been in."

"Ewan, love, listen-I have to go. I'll be fine. This is far from the most dangerous fight I've ever been in. You'll have to trust me, okay?" Tethys's smiled turned reassuring. "Don't worry about me okay? You have to be strong and protect the people here, all right."

"That's right Ewan, nothing's going to happen to Tethys while I'm around," Gerik assured the mage. He mussed Ewan's hair. "I intend to keep a very close on her, all right?"

Ewan tensed, and looked back at eth grizzled fighter. He hated handing the care of his sister over to another man. He knew Gerik liked his sister-more then the friendly like, and giving him permission to specially watch out for her seemed like encouragement. Still, from a logical standpoint-Saleh was always going on about logical stand points- it made sense. Gerik was a very good fighter, and he and Tethys had worked together for a long time. Ewan could trust Gerik to look after Tethys.

"All right, but you'd better watch her really closely," Ewan suggested. "I can't go, so it's up to you to protect her."

Gerik saluted, and Ewan was unsure whether the man was making fun of him or not. "I accept the duty with honor. I have a small favor to ask though, will you watch out for Marisa and make sure she doesn't get too deep into trouble?"

Ewan saluted back, unsure whether he was mocking Gerik or not. "I'll keep her outta trouble."

Tethys smiled, and hugged Ewan. "Thanks, and don't worry." Ewan hugged her back, but he wasn't sure he could stop worrying this time. This worry felt a lot realer then any other he had ever felt.

"Ewan, go tell General Seth that we're short three swords and two staves!" Kyle called from a storage wagon, jerking Ewan from his mind wanderings. Ewan had been running errands all day, and evidently he was now officially recognized as an errand boy.

Tethys smiled, and patted his head. "Go on!"

"Right," Ewan dashed off, running the message through in his mind. He was never very good at remembering things for very long. Saleh always said he didn't apply his mind properly. Ewan careened through the busy tents, jumping over piles of stuff, and sometimes bouncing off people. He wasn't large enough to knock anyone over so he was just pushed off and told to be more careful.

"General Seth-wah!" Ewan hooked his foot in a food basket and smacked face first into the ground. He quickly pushed himself up, holding a hand over his throbbing nose. At least he had hit dirt, and not rock. "Kyle says we're short three swords and two staves."

"Thank you- are you all right Ewan?" It was Princes Eirika who asked. Her face was thin and drawn, but her eyes were more alive then Ewan had ever seen them. She fairly radiated confidence, and an almost savage desire to free her brother at any cost.

"I-I'm fine, Lady Eirika," Ewan stuttered as he nervously looked at Seth. The General looked even more tired then usual. "Um, Lady Eirika, I know it's really none of my business, but is Amelia going to be one the front lines?" The words tumbled out almost unbidden. Ewan slapped his hand over his mouth.

Eirika shook her head. "She's the healer's guard Ewan. She'll go where she's needed. Is that all you wanted to ask me?"

Ewan nodded. "Yes, and I hope your brother is all right. I mean-I'm sure he is, he's really strong."

Eirika smiled nodded her head. "Thank you- he is very strong, and he is fine. We'll get to him in time." Ewan nodded, and then Eirika turned back to Seth, talking about battle plans. Ewan took this as a sign to leave, and dashed off to find Amelia. He had to wish her luck before she left.

Ewan spent what must have been hours wandering aimlessly around the camp, asking people at random if they had seen Amelia. The girl was evidently busier then Ewan himself was! Every time Ewan got to a place she was supposed to be the blond Knight had moved on to another place. Ewan finally spotted her carrying a load of arrows.

"Ah! I found you!" Ewan bounced up beside Amelia, and took hold of the arrow basket. "I was wondering if I'd ever catch up to you!"

Amelia smiled thankfully and shifted her hands to allow Ewan to bear half the weight of the arrows. "Sorry, but General Duessel has been sending m eon errands himself. I have to stop soon and rest up for the battle so I'm trying to get as much done as I can."

"Right, about the battle I want to wish you good luck, and be careful." Ewan felt slightly silly saying it, but he felt it needed to be said. "Just don't, you know, die or anything like that."

Amelia laughed. "Okay, I won't!" Ewan grinned back, and winced as one of the arrows jabbed his though his tunic. He glanced down at the cruelly barbed arrow heads, and shuddered slightly. Those would hurt.

* * *

"Is this what it's like to go mad, Lyon?" Ephraim asked.

"I think, I'm not sure what it is like for you." Lyon answered. "I'm not in your mind. I can't tell what you feel."

Ephraim turned his eyes upwards, and breathed softly. "I'm going numb, and sometimes I feel so sharply I almost scream. It's unbearable, but I can't stop. I think at times it's like being drunk-you remember that right?"

"Of course I remember." There was a breathy laugh. "How can I not? I wish I didn't remember the morning after so vividly though."

"Memories, remembering-I'm not sure it means as much as it once did. I remember some things clearly though- my failures and my sisters face. I think I am giving up on sanity as well as life." Ephraim touched his aching face, and smiled. "I didn't know dying was like this."

"No, no, just the way you are dying," Lyon whispered softly. "This is your death. You're strong in your resolve, and so death doesn't scare you as it would anyone else. You know what you want, and you are obtaining it. That's why you feel this way."

"Are you afraid to die Lyon? Doe sit make your heart pound, and your palms sweat? Do you lie awake wondering if you'll go to Hell or Heaven? Do you believe in things like that?"

The reply was whispered. "I believe in Hell."

"I thought you might," Ephraim breathed in sharply. "Is this real?"

"I'm not sure if it is, but I'm enjoying the company," Lyon answered. "Does it really matter anymore? You're going mad, and I think I must be mad already. We make quiet the pair, really."

"I think I want to believe I am sane a little while longer," Ephraim mused softly. "I'd like to die a sane man, I think. Will anyone know if I do or if I don't? Will you even know Lyon?"

"No, because if we both go mad how will I be bale to tell if either of us is mad? Mad people always make sense to each other you know. It's the sane people that sound inane to the made people. Isn't it odd?"

"I think it may be sad. How do we know we're sane at all? Maybe the real sane people have been regarded as mad for years," Ephraim said listlessly. "I think it's getting hard to breath. I may die sooner then I thought."

"You haven't eaten," Lyon said. "You can't live very long without eating. The rats will know when you're about to die, but they've grown very fat on your food you know. They've also grown very bold."

"Am I still sane?"

Lyon looked away. "I don't know."

Ephraim smiled. "I don't either. I think I am not completely sane anymore, but am I insane yet?"

"I told you, I don't know," Lyon almost whined. "I can't tell anymore. I can't tell anything anymore. Are we really speaking to each other, or is one of us imagining this?"

"I know you well enough to imagine this, but that would mean I am insane. This feels real. I hear your voice too well for this to be imagined, unless I am really mad." Ephraim laughed. "I never dreamed it would come to this."

"Force feeding, well you should have expected it. Someone was bound to notice you weren't eating sooner or later," The voice wasn't Lyon. Ephraim turned his head, and saw two guards advancing on him.

The Prince smiled thinly. "Then I am mad."

The guard laughed humorlessly as his hand clamped down on Ephraim's chin. "Aren't we all."

**A/N: Whoo, the funnest part to write of this whole chapter was the last part. Next chpater is going to be much faster, because I'm back in school, and therefore am not as busy. Sounds crazy, huh? It is true.**

**We attack the fort at dawn!**


	16. Bloody Battle Runes

Battles were cruel wicked things were people who should have lived for years died. Battles were sickening things that hurt more then they mended. Natasha gripped her healing staff in her hands, and wished it was all over. She knew there was no other way to regain Lord Ephraim, but she wished the battle could be avoided all the same.

Joshua stood by her. He was her battle companion. He would be the one protecting her vulnerable back when the enemy came in too close. Natasha folded her hands around her staff, and said a quick prayer. Joshua was tossing a battered pair of die up, and catching them without looking at the numbers. He had been at the activity for a while now, and seemed engrossed in it. Natasha watched, eager for anything that would take her mind off the coming fight.

Her mind began a small chant to the rhythm of the dice as they flew up and came down. _I am only here to heal. I am only here to heal. I am only here to heal_. Natasha let the chant run through her mind unconsciously, and looked over the waiting troops. Fifteen seemed like far too small a number, but both Eirika and Duessel seemed pleased with it. Natasha was unsure, but she trusted their judgment over her own in matters of battle and strategy.

Amelia, the second youngest of the attack force, was strapping on her armor again. She was nervous, and her face was pale. Her small hands trembled as she worked with the buckles of her armor. Natasha hesitated in trying to help. She knew nothing of armor. She was surprised to see Duessel swing off his horse, and kneel to help the flustered girl with her armor. It only made her more flustered, but between the two of them Amelia got her armor on correctly.

"If you're scared Sister Natasha, I'll hold your hand." Natasha looked back quickly to Joshua, and blinked at the man's semi-serious face. _Hold his hand? _

"I doubt that will help my fears," Natasha replied. "It's not something that simple. I suppose, as a fighter, you never fear blood and death as I do."

"Well, I fear the lovely Lady Luck myself, but she and I have an understanding. I have many more years left to live, and I provide entertainment for her. Still, as a healer you must have a different view on death," Joshua said, grinning and shrugging. He snatched his die from the air, and looked around him. "If anything happens to me, then Franz will keep you safe, understand?"

"Yes, but why do you fear luck?" Natasha asked. Joshua was a prodigious gambling man, and supposedly his had rather good luck. It was also rumored his luck was normal, but he was a wonderful cheater.

* * *

Joshua chuckled. "No, I fear Lady Luck-it's was some people call death. Mostly it's from the pirates off the coast, but I like the saying." Natasha glanced at the suddenly solemn face, and then to the lines of people. It was almost time, and Joshua's Lady Luck would ride among them, and, hopefully, among their enemy.

The Demon King was patient. He knew how to wait, he could wait. He had waited inside the stone for years, biding his time for some fool to release him. He had waited for a better body to appear for his use. He had waited, and now it was time to reap the rewards. Now-not later. _Now_.

Lyon moaned in his head, wailing against his plan, and trying to throw himself into control. Ever since Ephraim's imprisonment the friendship the Demon King had been trying to crush had grown stronger. Lyon felt more strongly about trying to keep the demon King away from Ephraim for Ephraim's sake then he did for keeping the Demon King's power for himself. The change had been gradual, and now, with complete denial from controlling his body, the need to save Ephraim was growing fast.

The Demon King toyed with Lyon, allowing him to grasp a little control, and then shoving all the barriers back into place. Lyon cursed the Demon King with everything that came through his mind, and the Demon King only laughed. Lyon beat desperately against the barriers that held him form his body until he was exhausted, and still kept on trying. His resolve was remarkably stronger then it had been for months, but he was almost too weak to act on that resolve.

The Demon King stood, and walked from Lyon's room. Servants cowered as he walked by, and no one looked at him. Everyone feared him, because they knew Lyon as not what he used to be. They all knew that whatever creature walked the corridor, it was no longer their sweet gentle prince Lyon. The demon King smirked, and took great relish in selecting one to do his bidding.

The maid servant cowered as the Demon King turned his face on her, and she looked inches from fainting when he stepped towards her. "Bring a stone bowl, a cleaning rag, and a pitcher of water to the cell three doors down from the Fighter's door, and hurry." The girl bowed hastily, and almost ran to do his bidding. The Demon King allowed himself an amused chuckle, and continued on his way. There was no reason to avoid a little intimidation this far into his plan.

He had commanded that Ephraim's cell be cleaned, and that the guards cease watching it. No one was allowed to approach it until they were told, and by then the deed would be done. The Demon King was certain that he would still be able to rule Lyon with fear when he was in his new body-if the shock of having the Demon King leave his body didn't kill him- and he would therefore still have a hold on Grado. Lyon denied the fact vehemently, and beat harder against the barriers that held him back. The demon King laughed silently, and pushed Lyon away hard. He felt the Prince's resistance crumble, and the annoying voice lapsed into silence.

Most of the guards had been removed from the dungeons, and the prisoners were few. It was convenient to feed them to monsters, and it freed up many more men to march in conquest instead of guarding cells. The Demon King smiled to himself, and walked down the now silent corridors. No one would now until it was too late. He stopped in front of the door to Ephraim's cell, and stood silent.

Beyond the door was his new body-the one he had waited for. With this body he would reclaim what was taken from him, and take his revenge on Magvell. He would see the continent kneeling before him, or slaughtered and thrown into chaos. Ultimately it would all be the same thing, but there were so many ways to get there. The thought of the blood shed involved made the Demon king thirst for it. He lived for death, misery, and blood.

He opened the door, and stepped in. The cell was clean, very clean, and Ephraim lay against one wall, his eyes glazed, and his face gaunt. Even with force feeding the Prince was failing fast. He seemed determined to die, and it was possible he would. If his body was too weak to receive the Demon King's power he would die, and the Demon King would be stuck with Lyon's failing body for a little longer. Ephraim didn't look up as the Demon King approached, but he knew.

"Well, Lord Ephraim, tonight you'll be mine." The Demon King knelt down, and touched the gaunt face. He could almost feel the resentment the man had for him. "Come now, you'll have power, wealth, and recognition. You could even give your sister Renais to take care of. It would be hard for me not to allow that. You'll have your consciousness long enough to do that, at least."

The Demon King blocked the sudden blow aimed at his stomach. "There, you're stronger then I thought." Ephraim watched him with hard eyes. It was obvious the Prince was no longer who he had been. His eyes held the hard determination of a mad man, and his face was set.

"Yes, I am." The Prince let his attacking arm drop, and barely smiled. There was no defeat in the gesture, no warmth, or relief. The smile was bitter and grim. The General Prince had set his mind to dying, and he was convinced he would see that end. There was the strength the Demon King coveted, both the mental and physical strength.

"That will serve me well," The Demon King whispered, tilting Ephraim's head back to look into the determined eyes. Ephraim smiled wider, his expression mocking the feared creature before him. The Demon King smiled back, because Ephraim was no longer sane. He sought death for despair of living, and the signs were there. No sane man could smile like that.

"L-lord Ly-lyon," A small voice stuttered. The Demon king smiled, using the sweet expression Lyon's face was more used to. He looked to the maid, and found she held the requested items in her trembling hands. The Demon King kept the sweet expression on his face, and stepped away from Ephraim, motioning the maid forward. She walked in hesitantly, glancing quickly, at Ephraim, and then quickly away. Her hands shook harder, and the water was beginning to spill form the pitcher.

"Thank you," The Demon King took the things from her, and set them gently on the ground. He caught he trembling hand in his own. She flinched, and looked stricken. "It's very kind of you to bring these things so quickly. They're very important to Grado's survival. Things may not be good now, but they'll get better very soon." Talking in Lyon's voice was a strain, but it was possible. The maid looked slightly more relaxed, and smiled.

"Of course, mi'lord," She mumbled. She was still shaking. The Demon King glanced at Ephraim, who watched with his glazed eyes. _Let him concentrate on dying a few moments sooner_, the Demon King chuckled to himself, and looked back to the maid's frightened eyes. She had a nice face, very neat and perhaps beautiful if it weren't fear pinched.

"It's loyal people like you that keep Grado from falling to pieces in times like this. People who carry out odd orders without complaints, and stay loyal to their leaders even when hard times hit," Lyon's voice poured from Lyon's lips, but the Demon King leaned his head closer to the maids. Her eyes were growing larger, but she didn't move. "You're very pretty for a common maid," The Demon King whispered across her cheek.

The maid started, trying to draw back, but the Demon King had her by one shoulder. He held her in place, and pushed his lips onto hers. Her lips were warm and moist, and she smelled faintly of lavender. Her eyes widened further, and then began drifting closed. The Demon King ran one hand up her arm, and over her shoulder. He pulled her closer, and pressed a wandering hand against her neck. Her eyes snapped open again, but her plea was smothered by the Demon King's lip.

It was a simple matter of pressure to snap her neck, and she fell limp into his arms. He smiled down at her stricken face, and sat down on the ground to begin his further administrations. He pulled a small dagger from his boot, and pulled the collar of her dress down. He glanced at Ephraim, and found the Prince had hung his head, and his shoulders were shaking. He heard the only partly smothered laughter, and knew the Prince was even madder then he had first thought. It didn't matter, the man's body was all the Demon King wanted.

The Demon King carefully positioned the body, and placed the stone bowl under the maid's neck. He slowly slit the throat across one of the large blood vessels, and watched as the blood began to spill out. He shifted the body again, helping the blood move, and watched the bowl fill. Ephraim's insane laughter stopped, and he was staring at the ceiling. His lips moved, but he made no sound. The Demon King watched in relish, and reveled in his almost victory.

* * *

Rennac sat crouched by the small gate, and watched nervously for guards. The city was eerily empty even for dusk. Rennac carefully slid the door open, and motioned for the awaiting forces to move through. The horses' feet had been wrapped in cloth, and the soldiers with heavier footwear had down the same. Weapons, armor, and anything else that jingled was silenced with cloth. Rennac closed the door behind the last member, and ghosted up to Eirika's side. To him they were all dead men know, but the Princess seemed to still have hope.

_Let her have her fool's hope_. Rennac thought sourly. He would do as he had promised, and what he was paid to do. This was a stupid venture; even for the money he was being offered, but Rennac knew he couldn't turn away know. He was trapped in the twisted game of fairy tales and politics. Myrrh suddenly looked at Rennac, and her wide purple eyes seemed to know his thoughts. He looked away quickly, and wondered what had possessed Eirika to bring her.

"Princess, the way is over here," Rennac whispered, and Eirika nodded. Her eyes were bright, and her face was grim. She was a terror on the battle field that much he knew already, but she looked perfectly ready to kill someone without a second thought at the moment. She had been raised to fight, not be a perfect lady as most Princesses' were. She just as capable as leading a country as he brother, and probably would have co-ruled with her brother until she was married off into another royal family.

Rennac set off down the streets, keeping his senses alert and wincing at the trop's noise. True, for a group their size they were amazingly silent, but every noise sent Rennac's nerves jingling. He was used to his own silent movements, and the fact he had already been chased out of the city once which only worsened his nerves. Every shadow he saw out of the corners of his eyes was twitching madly into a soldier or a scout set to watch for them and shout a warning that would seal their fate.

Rennac tried to calm himself, but it wasn't working. Now was not the time to have wild attacks of imagination. Rennac felt a small warm hand grasp his own, and he glanced back. Myrrh looked up at him, and smiled. Rennac let her hand stay where it was, she'd let go if Rennac needed his hand for anything. Amazingly the child's hand was still, and it was dry. She was not nervous about the upcoming battle, or if she was it didn't show.

The rogue smiled to himself, and set off at a surer pace. They were almost at the Keep now, and after that the charge would begin. He remembered these streets well from his time spying out the Keep. His fear fade as they neared the Keep, and expectance began replacing it. This was going to be a battle that would go down in history. A small elite force attacking Grado Keep on an insane rescue mission to save Prince Ephraim of Renais from the Demon King of legend.

"We're all insane," Rennac whispered hoarsely. He glanced up at the towering walls of the Keep, and shuddered. They were _all_ insane to even be attempting this, and even more insane to think that they could actually accomplish their mission. No one heard him except Myrrh, who smiled as she released his hand.

He moved forward, motioning the group to stay back. He dashed between cover, hiding in shadows, and breathing deep and even. He crept along the wall until he reached the medium sized gate thought would allow them to enter the Keep with a more or less direct path to the dungeons. Rennac ran over the Keep's layout mentally again, and slipped his lock picks into the door's lock.

He winced as metal scraped against metal, and prayed silently to every deity his mind could remember. He was sure he made some up, but how could that hurt? Rennac grinned to himself as the lock clicked open, and cautiously opened the door. He glanced around, and motioned the group forward again. So far they had, by some miracle, escaped attention. Now there would be only a little more stealth, and the battle would begin in earnest.

Rennac slipped through, and dashed through the shadows to the two men standing guard by the door. The first had no warning, and then the second only managed a surprised gasp. Rennac waved discretely, and the first line moved through. Every noise was tortuously loud, and Rennac was amazed they hadn't brought the entire army down on their heads by now. Rennac moved forward to open the door that would allow them into the keep, and found it was unlocked. He looked at Eirika, who nodded curtly.

Rennac eased the door open, and the first line stepped into Grado Keep.

* * *

Ephraim wasn't certain what the demon King was now doing, but it smelled awful. He smelled blood, bitter herbs, and the acrid smell of dark magic. He was now lying in the middle of the room, staring at the plain stone ceiling. He heard the Demon King humming, and shuddered as he remembered it to be one of his own childhood songs he had taught Lyon.

The ceiling was grey with uniform blocks of stone. Everything about Grado Keep was uniform and strict. It was a military oriented country, and everything about it reflected the strict nature. Ephraim stared at the uniform blocks, and thought of the uniformed men of Grado he had cut down like wheat. There had been nothing uniform about them. Each man had a family, a reason and manner expressly his own. Only when he put on his armor and hid his face was he remotely the same as his fellows, and then only to the outside observer. Each stone must have been different as well; a different chisel stroke was used for each to make them appear the same.

That one was different. Ephraim squinted at the ceiling and let his eyes trace the odd mark above him. It was vaguely familiar, and he was certain he had seen something like it before. It was hard to pull his mind out of its rambling circles and put it to a certain task. It was a struggle to focus on anything, especially something as specific as the mark on the ceiling. Ephraim forced his mind to take in the mark and compare it with things he remembered.

_A rune_, Ephraim decided with satisfaction. A mess of complicated ruins used for magic, but a rune. Ephraim started to let his mind sink back away, and then it jolted to a semi-lucid state. The complicated mess of runes was drawn in blood. Ephraim forced his body up, and managed a slumped sitting position He gasped at the effort it took, and glanced around him. Splayed out from him was a complicated array of circles, squiggles, and runes. Everything was written in tacky drying blood. Ephraim's mind took this in with minor alarm, and he realized that the Demon King meant to take his body very soon.

Ephraim reached out a hand to smear the runes. He was certain if he smeared the blood then the spell wouldn't work. Ephraim realized the blood was from the girl who had been killed by the Demon King. He felt repulsed, but leaned forward more. His balance shifted, and he fell sideways instead of going forward more to smudge the lines. His side hit the lines of blood, and the smell of burned flesh registered before the pain did.

Ephraim screamed, his muscles convulsing as the magic burned through him, and spread out through his arm and side. The old ache in his arm flared into pain again, and he choked on another scream. Tears streamed down his face as he thrashed around, unable to remove himself from the magic's hold. Here was where he would die, alone expect for a demon, but his body would be safe.

"Stupid human," The Demon King rasped, and pulled Ephraim off the blood markings. Ephraim gasped as the pain receded to a tolerable level, and stared dumbly at the Demon King's face. Where was Lyon when he needed him? Didn't the man know Ephraim needed whatever assistance he could give now?

The Demon King grinned viciously. "Don't worry Ephraim. Lyon's run away, and can't hear us right now. He can't hear you screaming like a child." Ephraim flopped over where the Demon King pushed him, and gasped desperately for air. He was still a child. He tried acting like a man and it had gotten him nowhere. Ephraim moaned softly as the pain sank into his body. He heard the Demon King humming again looked blearily at the runes that held his fate.

"Oh Eirika, 'M sorry," Ephraim whispered. He felt the tears still sliding down his cheeks, and saw his sister's smiling face. He had failed her, and everything else he had ever stood to protect. He was helpless now, and even if he wasn't he lacked the strength to do anything. Ephraim watched the Demon King step expertly over the bloody designs, and smile cruelly at his work. Ephraim found himself humming along to the tune.

**A/N: Please, please don't kill me! I know this took an stupidly long time, and I said I'd get this chapter up faster. My excuse? A complete lack of inspiration. Sad but true. I won't promise anything, but I think I can finish the next chapter faster, but the soonest it can be posted is week-end after next. Gomen nasai!**

**Things are winding down, and possible there are only two or three more chapters. Thank you for reviewing-if you did-, and please review if you didn't.**


	17. Battle Rage

_I think I'm dying. I'm not sure, because I've never died before. Has anyone died before and then died again? Does everyone die the same? No, I guess not. Some die quietly in their beds, surrounded by their heirs and lovers, and others die violently on the battle field with only vultures to tend to their bodies. Those are two extremes, with various degrees in-between them._

_I thought I would die violently on the battle field, and part of me rejoiced for that fact. I wanted to die fighting, living, and being myself. I knew it was likely I would die quietly as a good ruler might but I held out for my glorious death of violence. The battle field was my home, and that was where I would lay my bones to rest. I wanted to die there, amid the blood and destruction I had pledged myself to prevent and use to protect._

_Now I'm dying slowly, and it's not really dying. My mind is tottering away from my body, and slipping through the cracks of reason. I cannot hold on to it anymore, and it won't sit still and talk to me. I can't manage to persuade it back to me if it won't listen to my argument. I feel weak and useless. I feel used and abandoned. I am a failure, and a lair. I am dying to prolong the violence of the slaughter, and condemn my people to death and blood baths for eternity._

_And even that cannot make me raise my head, or offer resistance as the Beast I am calling Death slinks up to me and devours my body and kills my mind._

_

* * *

_

There were two guards standing watch by the door. Eirika barely flinched as a javelin and an arrow silenced them with morbid efficiency. The first line crept forward, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before their presence was known. The army moved forward. Eirika smiled to herself. They were a phantom army.

She readied herself mentally for the inevitable bloodshed. She locked away her female empathy, and pushed away any pangs of guilt she might have later. She pushed all thoughts but her goal from her mind, and readied herself for the fight. This was her element. She felt the fierce fire well in her blood, but for once she had no desire to smile viciously. Her face stayed grim, and part of her screamed for the blood of the people who kept her brother from her.

She was not allowed on the first line, by strict order, but once the lines broke and every strategy fell to the heat of battle there would be nothing keeping her from the direct fight. She knew they would meet resistance very soon and hopefully at a suitable place for a skirmish. Her real job was to follow Rennac to the dungeons to find her brother, and as soon as Ephraim was in her custody they would pull out. If that option was still there. This was a suicidal mission, after all.

They met the next batch of sentries, but this time a hoarse cry of alarm went up from one before he was silenced, and another dashed away, no doubt to gather his comrades. The rest were slaughtered with the same quick strikes the other two had faced. Eirika walked over the dead bodies, and wondered when she had become so numb to death.

The reached a more open room and a small resistance had already gathered. It was only two dozen foot soldiers. Magic, arrows, javelins, and hand-axes rained down on the men, and then the front line crushed them underfoot leaving behind a river of blood. Now was the time for speed. The moved faster through another corridor, and Eirika jogged along easily. Her senses keyed up as adrenaline began flowing through her veins. She knew the hall they were traveling through, and that the large Feasting hall was just up ahead. It was directly adjoined to the throne room, and the dungeons were not to far from there.

Another group had gathered in the Feasting hall, and it was larger. They were still foot soldiers. Who would bring cavalry into a building? The front line charged, leading the still eerily silent army forward. No war cries sounded, no sound but the muffled sound of feet running and the sharp sound weapons being drawn.

The front line crashed again into the enemy line, and magic snapped through the air. Men fell screaming, and cursing all around Eirika. She surged forward, and jumped sideway to miss a wild axe swing. She ducked under the man's arm, and stabbed him where his armor gapped open. She shoved her sword in deep, and jumped back, watching the man fall, cursing her as he went. Another man came, and she killed him to.

She felt dreadfully alive, and wild. Each step seemed to make her angrier. These men were keeping her from her brother. These men were stupid enough to try and keep her from the person she cared most about. These curs were keeping her from her only living family, her brother, her twin, her other half.

Eirika felt no remorse as she slashed the men before her down. She only felt savage satisfaction. Each dead man brought her close to her brother. This must have been the battle rage her brother had often talked of. This feeling of fire that coursed through her had to be the feeling he had so often described.

More men were pouring in to help their failing comrades. Eirika was unsure if any of her own men had fallen, but the Grado forces were very disorganized and seemed to be either very old, or very young. The prime fighting men had been sent away to fight in the conquest. Eirika viciously killed a mage who looked no older then fifteen, and whirled to fight the next man.

Death, death was all around her and she was Death.

"Princess," Rennac was shouting over the din of the battle. "We need to pull out of this and get your brother!" He buried his long knife in a man's stomach, and jumped away form the fighting. That was easier said then done. Eirika was embroiled in fight after fight, and pulling out the few who were supposed to go after Ephraim would be hard.

More men were pouring in to help Grado, and the invading force was being slowly pushed back. Eirika gritted her teeth, and saw Natasha dashing through the battle, healing people as she came to them. She saw Joshua mercilessly killing the enemies who approached the Cleric. Eirika stepped back, and watched an arrow finish off her opponent. At this rate they would be overrun by sheer numbers. She knew that her forces were better trained then any of Grado's at this point, but numbers were the difference now.

Myrrh was suddenly beside her, and pushing forward. Eirika stabbed a man who tried to attack the girl, and then jumped back in surprise and horror. Myrrh began to change. Her body warped and grew. Her hands grew talons, and her teeth became fangs. She grew quickly to twice the size of a war horse, and let out a roar that shook the walls.

Eirika felt her heart jump in her chest as Myrrh struck forward, her jaws crushing men easily. This was the might of the Manakete girl. A loud cry went up from the invading force, and the Grado forces quailed. A beast of legend stood against them, and she was not happy.

Rennac shouted again, and Eirika peeled herself from the fight using the panic Myrrh had caused. Eirika dashed through the skirmishes, and joined the small force dedicated to finding Ephraim. She glanced back once, and then ran forward, focusing her mind on her task. She had to find her brother, and heaven help anyone who got in her way.

Rennac dashed to a small door, and flung it open. Eirika followed her blood covered sword clenched in her hand. Servants scattered when they saw the small force of fighters, and some of the maids fell into a dead faint. Rennac didn't stop, and Eirika charged after him. As long as the servants fled she wasn't going to bother with them, but it seemed odd none of them were offering any resistance. She was certain, especially when the intruder's force numbered only five, that someone would be trying to drive them back, even here. Was this proof of how terrorized the people of Grado were? They had lost their loyalty to their country?

Eirika cursed the Demon King silently, and wished Rennac would go faster. The man was slowing down now, and he seemed hesitant as he jumped down another corridor. He stopped, and Eirika nearly ran into him. He glanced back, and licked his lips. He was obviously nervous now.

"The dungeons are down this way. Be careful. I get the feeling whatever might be down there isn't pleasant," Rennac paused, and shuddered. "Just...be ready."

"My brother's down there," Eirika said. "So that's when I'm going." Rennac nodded, and opened the door in front of him. He lead the way again, and Eirika stepped into the dungeons. She gagged. The place smelled thickly of human waste and rotting flesh. There was a sick smelling undercurrent to the smells that made her skin crawl.

"There's no one here." Amelia gasped, one hand over her mouth. "No guards, or anything!" She was right. The place was eerily quiet, and it made Eirika's skin crawl. She stepped past Rennac, and heard her footsteps echo deadly down the hall.

"The cell's down this way." Rennac sounded unnerved, and Eirika got the feeling he hadn't been expecting this either.

"Let's hurr-" A scream, high and cracked his pain broke off her words. It echoed madly through the empty hall making it seem to come from everywhere at once.

"Ephraim!" Eirika shouted back against the scream. "Where's his cell!" Rennac scrambled into a run again, and Eirika dashed after him, her heart pounding an ache into her chest.

* * *

Circles spinning round and round.

His hands were wet with blood. His wrists were covered in ruins that meant nothing. His forehead felt stiff, and blood dribbled deliberately across his face. His eyes were closed blocking out the floor that only confused him more. Circles within circles, within circles. It was like a bad political meeting where nothing meant what everything didn't, or ripples that spread forever and were going to eat his soul.

...that made no sense.

He moaned softly as a wave of pain washed over him. The waves came when a new line of wet was drawn onto him. With each wave of pain his thoughts seemed to make less sense, or maybe he was just unable to tell if they had sense anymore. It was also possible his thoughts had never made sense, and only now was he able to tell. Perhaps he was reaching a new level of enlightenment. Maybe he was becoming a better being.

Hadn't he been happy with his former state of being?

Yes, but why should he settle for something less? Why should he be content for something so inferior? He wanted to be better so he could protect things. He wanted to be stronger-the strongest. He wanted-no- He _needed_ this strength to ensure no one could defeat him. He could do what he wanted-_what was right _with this new strength. He could make the world a perfect place to live with no violence or disease. People would worship his rightly as a God who brought them salvation.

No, that wasn't right. Was it? He was certain most of those thoughts weren't his, but whose were they?

The Demon King's thoughts, right...

Ephraim smiled, and felt the dried blood on his face crack. Blood dribbled onto his face again, washing him in pain. "Lyon...how red is blood?"

A cold voice laughed. "Redder then any other color. That's why men kill: to see the blood." The cold voice that wasn't Lyon's laughed, and Ephraim gasped as the darkness before his eyes became red, and the pain flared up. He screamed.

* * *

Forde shouted. His voice carried no farther then his lips. The sound of battle was almost deafening His mare slipped slightly on the bloody floor, and he cursed. Blood covered stone was slippery enough for foot soldiers, but a horse would go down and not get back up if they continued to fight here.

Duessel was already remedying the situation by pulling them back, and rearranging the lines. With Myrrh on their side they were now winning. Her appearance still had the Grado forces in a small panic, and no one wanted to get close to her crushing jaws and deadly breath.

They were giving up precious ground, but it had to be done. As it was they had the upper hand. Arrows flew thickly, and magic gave the air a sick burned smell. The acrid smell was burning Forde's nose. His mare reared, dodging a lance, and Forde shouted as he drove his sword into the man's head. His blood rushed hard and hot through his veins.

The back of Grado's lines seemed to be having problems. The men were breaking off left and right, scrambling away from their places. Forde frowned and wondered what was going on. He gasped a curse as an arrow hit his shoulder, and forced his horse back more. Another arrow joined the first in his arm, and he doubled over his mare's neck. She whinnied in distress as Forde temporarily lost his ability to think straight. One arrow was lodged deep and was scraping against the bone in his arm.

Forde felt the hair on his arm stand up, and he looked up quickly. An axe was baring down on him with the intent to sever his leg. Forde grabbed his sword clumsily with his left hand, and managed to deflect the blow, but it still carved a line down his leg, and clipped his horse. She squealed, and lashed out, knocking the man away. Forde twisted his injured leg away from the fight, and batted away another blow with his sword.

He felt something grab the arrows in his arm, and yank them out. He gasped, and his vision blanked out as the tingling sparks of healing rushed through him. It only took a second. Forde switched hands quickly, and nodded to Lute, who gave him a dead panned look in return. The commotion at the back of the lines seemed to be growing, and people were panicking. Forde's mare's head came up, and she squealed.

A Deathgoyle and a Gwyllgi burst through a door, dashing through the Grado forces. The men scrambled away from them, shouting and cursing. If a man took too long in getting out of the way he was dragged down by the murderous creatures, and slaughtered. Forde braced himself, and took advantage of the chaos to hack down more men. More men crumpled as flames shout out of Myrrh's mouth, and those that weren't killed instantly were left still burning.

_'This is slaughter.'_ In the suddenly fearful chaos men dropped everywhere. People dashed about, trying to get out of the way of the monsters, but in the crush of the front lines it was difficult. Forde cursed the commander who could sacrifice his men so easily.

The Gwyllgi leapt over the last few men, and leapt at the throat of Forde's horse. Forde's stomach dropped past his feet as his mare went down. He leapt from the saddle, rolling across the blood splattered floor. He cursed lividly as he struggled to his feet, and gripped his sword tightly.

Forde watched in subdued horror as his mare's legs convulsed in her death throws. He was not trained to fight on the ground. He had been trained in that area, but he was much better on horseback. He grimaced as the Gwyllgi looked up with a blood stained mouth, and advanced on him. Forde grinned, and eased himself forward. The Gwyllgi growled and leapt, crushed the knight under it.

**A/N: I feel this chapter makes no sense at all. The parts with Ephraim were not supposed to make sense, but nothing else seemed to either. Ah, well, I'll get over it. Thank you ever so much to all the people who reviewed, and added their insight. I appreciate it very much!**

**IMPORTANT: About Rennac's name.(I am spelling it correctly now, right?) First I spelled it the way I thought it was spelled, and then I got my guidebook and used that spelling. Ha, both were wrong, so finally I found my game pack, and I believe I am spelling right now.(Please kill me if I'm not.)**


	18. Lucid Darkness

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Fire Emblem related, just my insane ideas.**

_Oh, I'm drowning._

_It's awful here. I can only breath blood and sickness. I can't move, but I am moving. I can't scream, and so I am sobbing. Oh, this is awful. This is a true Hell, a living Death. I-please, I want to die in truth. I can't stand wading through the blood of someone else's kills and spite anymore. I can't stand being this way any longer. I'm going mad, and I'm madder each second that passes. Oh, please, someone help me. I don't want to look at the blood on my hands again. I don't want to remember the people I've failed._

_Ephraim, please forgive me. Please, please, forgive me for being weak. Forgive me for doubting my strength. Forgive me for failing to fall back on your friendship, and trusting you as you trusted me. Forgive me for not taking you into my confidence and telling you what I was not supposed to tell anyone. Please, forgive me, because I have damned you to the same Hell I am drowning in, and I am about to see you go madder than I. _

_Please, friend, forgive me._

_

* * *

_

Everything around him seemed to be spinning madly. Screams, sobs, and roars filled the air to a deafening pitch. The smell of magic, blood, burning flesh, smoke, and the sick smell monster swirled in the air. Each terrifiedface of an enemy seemed to fill his vision the moment before the final stroke, and boys younger them him fell into the mire of blood and flesh on the floor.

Franz gripped his mare with his legs, and swung down viciously. The Grado forces were still in chaos, and it seemed almost unfair to kill them now. Two more monsters had joined the original attack force, and were hindering the Grado forces more then helping. Franz felt a cold shiver travel up his spine, and felt his sword slide through another body. _Don't think, just kill._ He told himself firmly.

Franz grimly chopped another soldier down, and felt the strain in his arm. He was getting tired now. His body was starting to ache all over with fatigue. He hoped the Grado forces were even more tired then he was. Franz heard Myrrh roar, and watched the dragon-girl swung her tail, and knocked ten men away. The next second she was breathing fire on another batch, and the rest of the men around her scattered. She was terrifying, even to Franz.

The Grado forces, lacking unity and a leader, were falling apart in the growing chaos of the fight. Franz shouted hoarsely and slammed another man away. The man had to be over sixty. Did he have grandkids who would miss him? A wife, children? _Don't think, just kill. _Franz grimaced, and hacked at the neck man's neck. Blood splashed across his arm, leg, and horse. Franz signaled his mare to kick, and knocked another man away. These people were not used to fighting trained war horses; they didn't seem trained to fight anything.

Franz heard a tight scream from his left, and he jerked around to see Lute bent over her horse's neck. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. She threw up, her hands gripped her horse's mane in tight convulsions. Franz kicked his mare to Lute's side and heard an ear splitting howl. He looked around again, and saw the monsters were cowering away from something. Myrrh roared, sounding more like the small girl Franz knew her as, and flung herself away from the lines, rapidly shrinking into a small girl form again.

"Lute, what's-" Franz's question turned to a oath as the floor shook, and his mare screamed. Lute's horse shied, and the Mage Knight fell to the ground with a solid 'thump', still staring and jerking all over as if she was having a fit. The ground shook, and the air was filled with screams and shouts of panic. Franz gripped a double handful of mane, and held on tightly as his mare shied and screamed. Something awful was happening.

Franz saw Natasha collapsed on the ground with Joshua kneeling over her. He saw Dozla scrambling to keep his feet, and Neimi scurrying out of his way. He saw Duessel leaping off his horse, and grabbing someone up from the ground. He saw Kyle hit the ground after his horse tossed him violently away.

Then everything was still. Franz gripped his sweating mare with his knees, and sat gasping in the saddle. His mare quivered beneath him, her neck and shoulders were soaked in sweat, and where his hand had rubbed against her she was lathered. Franz found he had dropped his sword. He looked around quickly, and found only the monsters remained. The human troops had fled.

"Protect the fallen!" Franz heard Duessel yell. Franz spurred his mare forward on instinct, and she responded sluggishly. He grabbed his lance from his side, and watched as the Deathgoyle and Entombed prepared to strike. Most of the forces had been affected by the sudden shake, and Franz only saw Gerik and Vanessa answer the command.

Franz didn't wait for the monster to move, and neither did Vanessa. She threw a javelin that lodged firmly in the Deathgolye's neck, and Gerik charged, his shout loud in the sudden silence. Franz coaxed his mare forward, promising this was the last charge for her tonight. Franz stabbed his lance into the Entombed's body, releasing a rush of foul blood, and his mare wheeled and delivered the killing blow with her hind feet.

Franz danced her away from the monsters, and took a quick breath. There was nothing else. The battle was over, or, at least, they had a reprieve. Franz slipped of his mare and trotted back to Lute, who was still on the ground. She was curled into a small ball, her head clutched in her hands. As Franz approached she gasped, her body jerked tight again.

"Angels and saints," Lute gasped. "Oh, what a blast, what a terribly powerful blast of magic." With that said the Mage Knight's eyes rolled back into her head. Franz knelt down quickly, and glanced around. None of the other magic users seemed to be doing any better. Franz quickly checked Lute over for injuries, and found she was relatively unharmed, except she had bitten her through her lips. Franz set his mare to guard over the fallen girl, and glanced around again.

He saw Kyle, and, amazingly, all the other people seemed to be standing, or alive in the least, that was more then anyone had hoped for. Franz smiled slightly, and then a cold fright gripped him. Where was Forde? Franz took three running steps before he reined in his panic, and set his feet firmly on the ground. He was not going to panic. He walked a few more calm steps, and found the corpse of Forde's mare.

"Forde!" Franz shouted panic rising in his chest. "FORDE!" _Oh please, you can't be dead. Oh please, oh please!_

_

* * *

_

The Demon King was laughing. Deep inside his being he was laughing, and the laughs shook Lyon. Lyon had been sleeping, or some off semblance of sleep. He woke slowly, becoming aware he could hear Ephraim screaming. The screams were awful things full of pain. Lyon shuddered to himself, but he didn't retreat into his sleeping state. He pulled himself slowly into almost awareness, and heard the Demon King chanting.

The chant was deep and guttural. It rose and fell with the Demon King's hands, and it pulsed with black magic. Lyon blinked through his eyes, currently held by the Demon King, and saw Ephraim lying in the middle of a complex array of blood circles.

The body in the middle of the circles thrashed around in pain. Lyon watched impassively, afraid to take any more interest in what was happening. He did not want the Demon King to find him. He was perfectly content watching, unknown and unobserved. He ignored the pangs of guilt he felt each time Ephraim screamed. He couldn't do anything for Ephraim now.

The chanting continued to rise and fall in pitch, and it had a very hypnotic effect. Lyon felt it, and slipped further from his consciousness. The chant wasn't for him, but it was affecting some part of him very strongly. Perhaps it was the Demon King preparing to draw himself from Lyon's body and place himself inside Ephraim. Lyon thought distantly it was sad that Ephraim should be the vessel of such an evil being.

So help him! Part of Lyon screamed against the injustice he was doing his friend. The larger part of him cowered. Lyon couldn't do anything. He was far too weak now, and what could he do against the awesome might of the Demon King? He was only a mere mortal human who had already fallen to the might of the Demon King before. How, after so many weakening months, could he now hope to do anything against such a foul creature? No, it would be best if he crawled away and waited for whatever came his way. He was useless against such strength.

Lyon chuckled to himself. Evidently the Demon King knew he was partially lucid, and intended to keep him from interfering. Lyon hummed softly in his head, and felt himself drifting sideways as the chanting continued. He couldn't help now. He'd have to wait. He'd wait.

But as the chant went on Lyon slipped further from lucidity.

* * *

Saleh was having a hard time keeping up with Eirika. Her mind had only one track, and one goal. She was going to save her brother, and nothing short of her own death would stop her. At this point that might not even stop her. Saleh had heard impressive things about vengeful spirits. Eirika was also terrified out of her mind. She was frightened of losing her brother, or worse, having to kill him. Ephraim was an important part of Eirika.

The dungeon was deserted, and no one seemed to find that strange. Saleh was tensed, one hand clenched around a tome of magic. There was something awful about the way everything felt down here. It reeked of something evil and very powerful. If it was the Demon King Saleh wouldn't be surprised.

Saleh suddenly gasped, and his legs quit working. His vision blanked out, and he was filled with a strong surge of magic. It ripped through his body, burning every nerve and scrambling his thoughts to thoroughly he was certain for a few long moments that he was dead. He felt the ground shaking, and struggled to come alive again.

Saleh opened his eyes and found everything was bleached of color. Amelia was kneeling over him, and speaking quickly. Her small hands were gripping his shoulder, and shaking him softly. He couldn't hear anything but his heart beat thundering in his chest and the dull echo of the magical shock in his brain. He rolled his eyes upward and found that Tana was also leaning over him, her mouth moving soundlessly as well.

"-aleh, are you all right? You can hear me, right?" Amelia was babbling on, her voice high with panic.

"Can you stand, what happened? Did you feel that earthquake?" Tana was asking, her face white and sweaty. Saleh forced his mind into some semblance of work, and force himself to sit up. He felt nauseous, and his limbs shook as he slowly got to his feet. Amelia helped him up, and he leaned on her, his breath coming hard and fast.

"That," Saleh gasped, amazed by the effort everything took. Everything was still bleached of color, and sounds fluctuated in his ears. "Magic. Strong blast it was. Horribly magic." Saleh blinked slowly, and Tana stared in shock.

"The Demon King did it," Eirika hissed. Her face was red, as if she too had fallen. She looked at Saleh, her eyes hard with fear and anger. "My brother hasn't much time left. Can you walk, Saleh?"

"Ephraim walk, mustn't hustle, down." Amelia giggled high and frightened, and Saleh nodded instead of continuing his confused speech. Evidently his mouth wasn't working well at all. An elixir fixed the worst of his stumbles, and they were off again, only this time at a fast trot instead of running. Eirika new she would need help if the Demon King was already trying to take her brother's body over. She knew running off alone wouldn't help her.

A scream echoed down the corridor, and Eirika jumped, one hand clenching around her sword handle. Rennac snuck along the corridor, his foot steps silent. Saleh stumbled along beside Amelia, and she held onto his shoulder, keeping him aright. She was a good girl.

A wave of strong magic washed over Saleh, assaulting his senses and banging hard against his head, but he stayed up right. Wave after wave of magic washed over him, each one burning his nerves, and making his head throb. They were getting closer to _something_. The rational part of Saleh was screaming for him to run away from this something, and not get closer. Eirika seemed to sense something, or maybe her body agreed with Saleh's sense even if her mind did not. Her shoulders grew more tense with each step, and she was almost as silent as Rennac.

Rennac paused across the corridor from one door, and nodded. Saleh grimaced. The waves of magic were now coming faster and stronger. "We much time, have not." Saleh managed through a new haze of pain. His mind was melting down from the inside out. He was losing something-

Eirika didn't wait for the door to be opened. She kicked it, hard, and it was flung open. She jumped into the room, the look on her face one of undiluted rage. She was here to kill whatever threatened her brother. Another scream broke the silence, this one ragged, closer, and much more desperate then the others.

Saleh saw the complex designs of the blood ruins on the ground, and his breath caught. He saw the black robed figure chanting at the edge of the glowing circles. A figure thrashed in the wildly of the runes screaming from time to time. Eirika shouted, her voice broke into the chanting, and she charged, paying no mind to the waves of magic that rolled of the man who grinned wickedly and raised a hand crackling with magic to meet her sword.

* * *

_Noise_.Lyon was aware suddenly of the vast amount of noise he was hearing. The chanting was still there, but there was more noise over the chant. A crashing noise, and a cold laugh that shook the chant, but didn't break it. Lyon shuddered. He didn't like the laughter. He struggled to again more awareness, and found himself looking into Eirika's hard eyes over her sword. Lyon gasped, mentally at the cold fury in her normally warm eyes, and tried to shrink away. It didn't matter who he was, she was going to kill him to save Ephraim.

Lyon almost cheered.

Eirika was flung back by a charge of magic, but he kept her feet. Her sword was already bloody, and her clothes were splattered with bits of battle gore. Lyon winced at the thought of all the Grado men who had died, and cursed himself lividly. He was a spineless coward, and there was no way around that. He had allowed men who had no business fighting make up the reserved army for the castle.

He heard Eirika's shout as if he was hearing it through water, and saw her charge again, her bloody sword raised to kill. Lyon wanted to shout as he felt the black magic gathering around him. This attack hit Eirika square in the chest, and she went tumbling back like a rag doll. She landed by the maid's corpse, but she was far from dead. Injured, but so very far from death.

Another chant began, this one shorter. It was a simple call for power, and a magical attack hit the Demon King's shoulder. The twinge of pain barely registered with Lyon, but he was impressed the man attacking the Demon King was even standing, much less attacking. It wouldn't do him any good to attack the Demon King with magic though.

_But, that was just a distraction._ Lyon realized with an odd sense of elation. A sword plunged into his shoulder, and his mental scream was lost in the Demon King's physical one. Eirika jerked back, and bounced on her toes. Her face held a wild triumph that made he absolutely terrifying. She was a demon of the battle field. The Demon King gathered the more mundane magics around him and chanted faster to make up for hi lost time. Eirika dodged the next attack, but it gave the Demon King time to work.

Another battle shout sounded, this one high and female, and, a woman who looked like a Pegasus Rider flung a javelin at the Demon King. He dodged, and hit her with another attack. The woman only slid back a little, meaning she probably was a Pegasus Rider, only dismounted. This too proved to be just another distraction.

Eirika's sword plunged into Lyon's body again, but this time the Demon King was ready, and whipped around. He grabbed Eirika around her throat, and physically hoisted her off the ground. He sent another blast of magic at the Pegasus Rider, who hit the wall with a sharp cry, and slumped to the floor. The mage was attacking again-no, if Lyon was even feeling the attack then the man had to be a Sage-, but the Demon King only continued his chant.

Eirika struggled in his grasp, her face was losing color, and her eyes were wide. Lyon could read her lips, and none of the words she was using were proper for a brigand, much less a Princess. She jerked her head back, and Lyon saw the long, bony, gloved fingers pressing into her throat. He remembered the maid and how simply the Demon King had snapped her neck. The chanting rose higher and Lyon felt a cold shiver of disgust go through him. He certainly was a coward, and the worst kind too, if he intended to let Eirika die. He saw the fingers tighten.

Something broke, Lyon felt it. Something within him shattered, and for a moment everything ceased to exist.

"NO!"

Eirika dropped to the ground, gasping and spluttering. Saliva dripped from her mouth, and her throat was already bruising. She looked up with eyes hazed with pain and confused by lack of oxygen. She was confused because the Demon King of Legend had released her when she was moments away from death. She was confused, and so was Lyon. Why did the Demon King let her live?

Because the Demon King hadn't let her go, Lyon of Grado had. Lyon had another strange sense of elation. The Demon King was gone. He had fled in the moment of his victory and left Lyon to his own devices at last. The reign of terror was over. Lyon had control of himself finally, and he would never let the Demon King back in control.

Lyon realized with a shock the Demon King was not hiding anywhere Lyon could feel him. It was as if the creature had left Lyon's body entirely.

* * *

**A/N: Well, two weeks isn't bad. I hope to finish this thing up in two more weeks! This is accounting for another chapter, and an epilogue. Thank you so much for reviewing, and I promise the insanity is almost over! **


	19. Personal Nightmare

_I am weak. I am sick. That is all I know. I am fearful. I am sick. I am worried. I am missing someone._

_Who am I missing? I can't remember, but she had a nice smile. She looks at me with happy eyes, angry eyes, indignant eyes, sad eyes, determined eyes-she never hides what she feels from me. She is me, but not me. She is part of me, and that part smiles and laughs when I am not smiling. She is the part of me that hold me together, and makes me strong._

_She is strength and comfort. She is support and steadiness. She is someone I can't live without. I need her. I am not the same without her. She is me. Mine, me, part of me. My other half._

_If only I could remember her name._

_-------------------_

Kyle had never seen Franz lose his composure so thoroughly, and he hope never to see it again. It would be a long time before Kyle forgot the sound of Franz's frantic shouts for his brother, and the sick feeling that settled in his own gut when he realized his comrade was missing. Forde was flamboyant, did not show proper respect when he was supposed to, and he was never serious enough, but he was Kyle's comrade in arms and his friend as well. He had only been able to think of that as he helped Franz roll the carcass of what could have been Forde, or just his arm

Luckily it was Forde, and he looked alive. Franz dropped down by his brother with insistent cries, and checked for a pulse with shaking hands. He didn't shake his brother-there was no telling how badly Forde was injured, and he could have broken something. After having a monster land on him it was likely something was broken; even, possibly, his back. Kyle felt another cold stab of dread, and knew it would be better to kill Forde now if his back really was broken. Kyle shook off the thought, and joined Franz by Forde's side.

Forde groaned, and his eyes opened slightly. "Franz, yu're mutt ate my canvas." The words were slurred, and they made no sense, but Franz appeared overjoyed. He babbled happily about something, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Forde smiled, and yawned.

"What did he mean?" Kyle finally asked.

"Oh, nothing. I think he-he's concussed," Franz managed. "I had a dog that used to eat his painting canvases all the time, and he'd always say that." Franz smiled, and gave Forde a gentle shake. "Don't fall asleep." Forde mumbled something, and Franz shook him again. Forde opened his eyes a little, and looked at Kyle.

"Funny meetin' you here, Kyle," Forde mumbled. "Funny place, huh?"

"Grado Keep isn't exactly funny," Kyle said.

Forde blinked, and looked around. "No kidding, Grado Keep, really?"

"Yes, Forde," Franz sighed. "I think he's _really_ concussed."

Kyle sighed. "I _know_ he's really concussed. We should get him healed-if we can." Kyle glanced at Natasha. She and the other mages/healers were all still comatose. "He may just have to recover on his own."

"He's had worse," Franz assured Kyle with a shaky smile. "Just not to his head." Franz gave his brother another small shake, and murmured something below Kyle's hearing.

"Wai', where's Lord Ephraim?" Forde asked urgently.

"Princess Eirika went to get him," Franz assured him. "They'll be back soon." Forde nodded, and smiled vacantly.

------------------

Eirika saw the look of horror cross Lyon's face as she struggled to get back to her feet. She gasped and choked as her throat burned and her vision wavered, but she managed to get her feet under her, and almost stood.

"No, it's not…" Lyon took a step beck, his eyes wide with sudden panic. "No…' He looked to Ephraim, who still lay motionless, and then he was running. Eirika had not expected him to run for her. She jumped away and fell down again. The hard stone bit into her arms and face. She winced, and heaved herself up again. She heard Saleh shout something. She managed to turn, but Lyon was no where in sight. She allowed herself a few gulping breaths, and then she turned towards her brother.

Ephraim was white. Eirika felt a thrill of fear, and then a sick feeling that settled in her stomach. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't! After everything she couldn't come this far to loose him. The people of Renais were waiting for them, both of them. She couldn't let him die. She staggered forward, and her foot touched the first lines of the complex blood circles around her brother. Pain-deep, dark pain spread up her leg in a lazy wave, and she gasped. It felt more like a permanent sickness then a passing pain.

She gritted her teeth, and took another step. It was impossible to miss stepping on the lines. They drew her feet towards them, and each step added with the waves of pain, which were becoming more like shocks the closer she got to Ephraim. She watched her brother's pale face for signs of life, but she couldn't see any. Her heart twisted.

Two more steps and she was standing by him. Sweat dripped off her, and her entire body was shaking. She had never felt so weak. She reached down, and grabbed Ephraim's tunic. Her arms shook, and she closed her eyes and leaned back. There as no way she could pick Ephraim up in this state -she couldn't even pick him up when she was at full strength.

Another pair of hands joined hers, and Eirika looked over at Tana, who was also sweating and shaking. Eirika smiled weakly, and felt a rush of gratitude towards her friend. She stepped back, using her weight to pull Ephraim along. She looked down at the pale face, and her stomach twisted.

Ephraim had gone past thin. His cheeks and eyes were sunken, and every bone stood out starkly under stretched skin. She imagined under his dirty ripped clothes the rest of him looked the same. He was a far cry form the strong man he had been a few months ago, and if his body was so changed, how had his mind fared? The Demon King was certainly well versed in tortures. How had her brother faired against such a creature? Eirika shook her head, which made her dizzy, and leaned her shoulder against Tana's. Now was not the time to think.

She put her mind to her steps, and promised each step got her closer to the edge of the confounded blood circles. She could worry about Ephraim when she got out of the circles of blood. She could see if he was all right, and he would be. He was Ephraim, he had to be all right.

Tana fell backwards, and Eirika managed another step before she realized she was out of the circles. She staggered back a few more steps, and fell down as well. She pulled Ephraim onto her legs to get his feet out of the circle, and then looked to his face again. She carefully laid a hand on Ephraim forehead.

"Ephraim," She whispered. Her voice was hoarse, it her throat stung as she spoke. Ephraim was alive, or he was breathing, at least. She could feel his heart beating weakly. "Ephraim, wake up." She shook him again, very gently. She could feel the bone of his shoulder through his tunic, and it hurt deep in her chest. This poor, poor creature was her brother.

"Where is he?" Amelia asked suddenly as she burst through the door. "Is Lord Ephraim all right?"

"Lyon got away," Rennac appeared beside Amelia. Both of them were battle dirty. "We took care of the Wight outside."

Eirika looked at them, and tried to find her voice. "Ephraim's-he's alive,' She managed. "He's alive." She repeated the words and smiled a little. Amelia beamed, and Rennac looked serious.

"'Rika?" A soft voice drew Eirika's attention sharply back to the body in her lap. Ephraim watched her from barely open eyes. "'M I dreaming?" His voice was barely a whisper, and it was as hoarse as Eirika's voice.

"No," Eirika whispered back. "No, you're not dreaming Ephraim. I'm here. We came to get you, and we're going to take you away from here." She ran a gentle hand down her brother's cheek, and smiled. "We're going to take you home." Ephraim smiled slightly, and opened his eyes a little more. Eirika gasped. His left eye had no pupil. It was blind.

"Don't leave me alone," Ephraim whispered. "He may come." With that he relaxed and closed his eyes.

Eirika smiled shakily, and took a deep breath. "Saleh, can you heal him?"

Saleh knelt by her, and touched his staff to Ephraim. "Not all the way, but some. He needs food and rest, mostly. What's really wrong with him can't be healed. He'll need time." Eirika nodded as the glow around the staff diminished, and she was confronted with another problem.

"How are we going to get him out?" She looked at her weary companions, and started laughing. Tana joined her first, her laughter high a shrill, and then everyone joined. Eirika held Ephraim as she laughed, and knew how to get him out. They'd put him on Tana's Pegasus, and get him out that way.

Still, it felt good to laugh, even if it did sound strained and broken.

----------------------------------

There was something soft under his back. He was rocking back and forth in jerks. He knew the motion from somewhere. He was very familiar with this motion, but he couldn't remember why. Why was this motion familiar? It wasn't the only thing that was familiar. The smells around him were familiar, and the faint noises were also familiar. Why was this so?

He tried to place the feelings, but all he could remember was hard stone, musty smells, and soft scratching noises. He tried to remember the rocking feeling, and where it came from, but he couldn't. The smells came to him slowly: leather, grain, and the slightly musty travel bedding. He shifted a little, sending aching waves of pain through his body. He became aware of the weight on half his chest and the small fluttering heart beat against his side.

He slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the canvas ceiling. It wobbled and jerked with the rocking motion, but it didn't look right. He blinked slowly, trying to adjust his eyes to the dusky light of the place. He didn't think it was a room, that didn't fit with the feeling. He mulled slowly over the thoughts in his head, and decided he must be in a wagon.

He shifted again, and slowly turned his head down to see what was lying on him. He had to do everything slowly. He felt drained. He encountered a purple head, and two yellow skinned wings. He laboriously pulled his hand up, and placed it on the small girl's head. She didn't even stir.

_Myrrh._ That was her name. She was the little dragon girl he had been traveling with. If she was here that meant-that meant…..

Ephraim's body jerked, and he hissed through his teeth as pain flared up through him. He slowly began pushing himself up. It was a battle to even get his elbows underneath him, but actually pushing himself off the pallet he was lying on was painful as well as hard. Myrrh stirred, and sat up quickly. Her eyes were startled.

"L-Lord Ephraim! You're awake!" She almost squealed. "How are you feeling? You shouldn't be moving. You need your rest."

Ephraim paused, and looked at the suddenly stubborn face. He smiled a little, and let him sink back down. He closed his eyes, and sighed. "Where am I?"

"We're almost out of Grado now," Myrrh informed him.

"Oh," Ephraim opened his eyes quickly, and closed his right eye again. He saw nothing with his left eye. Just blackness. Ephraim sighed, and closed both his eyes. "Is Eirika here? I thought I saw her."

"She is!" He heard Myrrh thumping across the wagon. "I'll go get her."

Ephraim sighed, and let his mind go blank for a moment. He was tired. He slowly began thinking again, and put together the thing he remembered happening most recently. Most of what he remembered as broken a fragmented with thoughts that were not his. Most he knew were the Demon King's thoughts, but some had an edge of hysteria that certainly couldn't have come from the Demon King. Those memories felt reminiscent of Lyon. Ephraim dug deeper, cringing as the thoughts began to actually hurt. Everything was beginning to feel tainted, but there was something he had to know.

"Ephraim? Are you awake?" Eirika's soft voice asked. He felt her hand touch his forehead, and he opened his eyes again.

He managed a slight smile in response. "I think so."

"And how do you feel? Your fever is gone, and the Healers have been healing what they could." Eirika smiled back, and sat down.

"Physically, I feel like someone ran me over with a herd of Grado war horses, and mentally..." Ephraim paused and tried to collect the thoughts that were slipping through his fingers. "I feel...tainted and robbed. The only good thing is I know the Demon King didn't win. I know I still have my body, my mind. I know that." He whispered fiercely. "I know that."

Eirika ran a hand across his forehead, and pushed his hair from his face. "It's all right, Ephraim. You're safe now. He can't get you here. I'll make sure of that."

Ephraim chuckled darkly. "I'm supposed to be protecting you. Now I can't even protect myself."

"You can-just not now. You're recovering, and you need to let us protect you while you did. You don't have to worry about me. If I get into anything I can't handle then Seth can pull me out of it," Eirika said warmly. "Please, just rest, all right?"

"I will. I'll rest." Ephraim closed his eyes again, and let his body settle back against the pallet. "There's nothing more I can do anyway." He heard Eirika mutter something, but he didn't try to make it out. He was free of the Demon King, and that was all that mattered. He was free, but Lyon was still captive. Ephraim felt a twinge of regret. Could he have handled the vile creature better than Lyon? Could he have subdued it and freed both of them from the Demon King?

No, no-he couldn't think like that. That thinking had gotten Lyon enslaved, and it would get Ephraim enslaved as well. There was only one thing he could do to help Lyon. He would have to kill his friend to get rid of the Demon King. He had to. It was his duty.

"Princess Eirika, how is he?" Ephraim heard Seth vaguely.

"Better than I thought he would be. The Demon King doesn't have him, like we had feared, but..." Eirika paused. "He'll never be the same man he was."

"This has changed him. For better or for worse, he is changed." Seth said softly. "There is nothing we can do for it." Eirika murmured her agreement, and her hand stroked her brother's cheek absently.

She was right. He wasn't the same.

**A/N: Only the Epilogue is left, and that is already written. I'll be putting it up in a few days. **


	20. To The End

"Ephraim-Ephraim!" Eirika watched as her brother turned his vacant gaze on her, and he blinked suddenly. Once again she was pulling him back from the thoughts that always held him deep within himself. It was always worse on rainy days or late at night. Eirika smiled slightly, and lifted the crown from her head. "I'm not sure we made the right decision."

Ephraim smiled, and looked out across the castle grounds. His hair stirred in the gentle night breeze. "I think we have. Once I was fit to rule, but now..." He trailed off, and shrugged helplessly. "You've seem me lose track of my thoughts in the middle of a meeting. You've seen me lose my thoughts in the middle of a speech. I can't go on like this, Eirika. Everyone knows I am no longer fit to rule."

"I don't know." Eirika sighed, and placed the crown on the turret in front of her. "You know, I had resigned myself to a marriage of state with someone I would hate, but now, as full Queen, I won't have to do that. Now my duty is to the people, and I must marry someone-anyone."

She looked at her brother, and any hint of amusement melted from her face. "Ephraim, I'm really not sure this is the right thing. You could still rule. No one doubts the soundness of your mind. Everyone knows what happened, and they respect you for overcoming it."

Ephraim smiled bitterly. "They know my mind was almost taken over by the legendary Demon King, and that part of me is forever tainted by him." He gripped his arm, and grimaced. "My arm hurts everyday. It sometimes makes me want to cut it off. I can't stand to be around anyone using dark magic, and we need a few of those in court. I-"

Eirika touched her brother's shoulder gently, and smiled softly. "I know. You don't have to tell me how you feel about that. I know."

Ephraim nodded, and smiled. "Yes, you do." He looked back over the grounds. "I intend to help patrol Grado with General Kyle and Colonel Forde."

Eirika smiled, and nodded. She watched as Ephraim's right eye grew distant, and his lips pursed. Once again she had lost him to the now mysterious realm of his thoughts. If she said anything right now he would not hear her. Ever since his rescue he had been off. First he had been obsessed over killing Lyon. It hadn't shown much, but she was privy to his deepest thoughts, and he had told her many times _he_ would be the one to kill Lyon.

Now, years after Lyon's death, he was vague. His mind had suffered, and he still harbored something inside himself that had not been there before. No Priest could say what it was, but it was something with a wicked taint on it. It resided in his scarred arm. That arm had never been as strong as the other after his capture.

Eirika managed a small smile, and looked out across the sleeping country. Her country lay before her. Ephraim stood still beside her, and only heaven knew what he was thinking.

_Who am I?_

_I am Ephraim of Renias. I am me. No one else. _

_My other half is Eirika, my sister and twin. My ruler and leader. My better half. My sanity._

_My friend is Lyon. Poor, struggling Lyon who died in blood he hoped to prevent. My friend. My fellow inflicted. My kindred spirit,_

_My home is Renais cleansed in blood._

_I am Ephraim of Renais, but who are you?_

**A/N: All done. If any of the end confuses you then ask, and I shall explain it. This is the end of Blood's Strain. I'm rather irrate it took me so long to write all this. The full story is eighty-one pages all strung together. Thank you for reading, and oh so much love to all the reviewers! **


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